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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257446">before it all burned down</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekingdomonce/pseuds/onekingdomonce'>onekingdomonce</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adultery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Homewrecker AU, Infidelity, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:15:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekingdomonce/pseuds/onekingdomonce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was true that love was nothing like people explained it to you. Growing up, no one told you that you might find it in more than one place. You find your soulmate. Your <em>one</em>. No fairytales prepared you for the feeling of that sentiment being ripped down the middle, figuratively and literally. Laurent didn’t know how to live with it, so he just had to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Laurent/Nikandros (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>191</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>before it all burned down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>as the tags suggest, this is a fic about adultery. please click off if you're not comfortable reading about that, because it's very much the focus and not something skirted around.<br/>a note: nikandros and laurent are not just a throwaway pairing or a plot device to hinge the infidelity off of. their relationship is very fleshed out and as relevent as damen and laurent's, so if you're simply interested in d/l this is likely not for you.<br/>also worth noting: i didnt tag this as open ended because i wouldn't quite call it that, and didn’t want to deflect people needlessly if that concept puts them off. i would say the ending is relatively clear but it's also technically open for interpretation if you'd like it to be.<br/>title is from julia by lauv, please listen and be sad with me :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had all begun in high school. </p><p>Laurent had always been somewhat of a private person. With his company, with himself. It wasn’t that he couldn’t make friends, he was just selective about it.  Four quarters rather a hundred pennies, keeping a tight circle, all of that. It was easy to be friends with just anyone, but Laurent hadn’t wanted that. He wanted one person. He wanted Damen, and Laurent believed that one day, he would have him.</p><p>The only problem was that everyone wanted Damen. He was <em>that</em> guy. The popular one who was incredibly cocky, but still gave everyone equal attention. He was flirtatious but respectful. He made people flustered just by being in the same room as them. Everyone pined for him, while Damen had likely never pined a day in his life. </p><p>The only person who Laurent was certain had never longed for Damen was Nikandros. </p><p>Nikandros was Damen’s right hand. Anyone who went to their school knew you didn’t get one without the other. They sat together in lab. They trained together. They held court in the best table at the cafeteria. Laurent knew that to get Damen he would have to go through Nikandros, finding his way into his good graces and getting the approval of the best friend. Laurent could charm his way through anyone, and he would do it now. Nikandros would see that Laurent was right for his friend, and it would begin the cycle. The domino affect to everything Laurent wanted. It had to start with Nikandros.</p><p>And so it did. They were partners for the new term, Laurent had made sure of that when selecting his seat, and he was more than willing to dumb himself down enough to desperately, bashfully require extra assistance with the coursework. </p><p>The thing about Nikandros was that he shined while Damen sparkled. He was the slightly dimmer version of the two, but it seemed to all who looked that he preferred it that way. He was attractive. He was nice. He was smart. But he also didn’t seem to care about any of that. Damen wore his good attributes like a badge, Nikandros wore it like skin. It was because he himself didn’t pay much mind to those parts of him that Laurent hadn’t initially known the kind of man Nikandros really was. </p><p>Nikandros hit Laurent like a freight train. Never in Laurent’s life had he been so startled by someone’s character, so out of sorts with himself at how wrongly he had assumed. His humor was dry, and it was natural enough that Laurent felt comfortable letting his own sarcasm slip before he remembered that he didn’t laugh with just anyone. He was intelligent enough that he called bullshit onto Laurent needing tutoring within their second session, despite the fact that Laurent <em>knew</em> he had been selling it. He’d needed to regroup, recalculate, and saw that his only option was to feign bashfulness and act like he’d simply wanted to spend more time in Nikandros’ company. And, well.</p><p>He was achingly beautiful. It was a different kind of beauty than Damen, which was odd considering how similar they looked. Damen’s beauty was unignorable, there was just something about him that made your head turn, made you stop in the street and fantasize about him later. Nikandros was more understated in everything he did, which was why once you finally <em>saw</em> him, you wondered what had taken you so long. </p><p>There was an unassuming kindness in his eyes. Laurent had heard every comment about his own in the book, and they all were all equally unimpressive and redundant, but sometimes Laurent would look into Nikandros’ and think, <em>oh.</em></p><p>The first time Nikandros asked Laurent out, Laurent had impulsively gone with it because fuck it, why not. He wasn’t bad company, he was very nice to look at, and he simply wanted to. He didn’t immediately think it would be a disaster, and it was sure to strengthen the foundation he was looking to set. </p><p>It hadn’t been a disaster. It had been more fun than Laurent could remember having in a long time, and it had only served to confuse him more. Because for all the room that Nikandros was starting to take up in his mind, it was doing nothing to push Damen out of it. </p><p>They lived together, because of course they did. They had no other roommates, so despite the frequenting guests it was usually just the three of them. Laurent hated it as much as he loved it. It was what he had wanted; to get to Damen. But to be around Damen Laurent would have to be around Nikandros, and the more he did that, the more he couldn’t ignore how much he wanted that as well.</p><p>Their second date had been inevitable. Their third had been a surprise, Nikandros showing up at his door with Laurent’s favorite takeout because, “<em>I wanted to see you, and I knew you would pretend like you didn’t want to see me too.”</em></p><p>The lines had become too blurred, and Laurent reached a point where he couldn’t remember what the original plan had even been. Damen liked him. Laurent knew he did, but it wasn’t in the way that mattered. He saw the way Damen looked at him, but Damen looked at a lot of people like that. Damen would increasingly seek Laurent out alone at school, but it was because Laurent was going out with his best friend and he knew Damen was making an effort for Nikandros. He’d sometimes throw an arm around Laurent or walk a bit too close to him in the hall when Nikandros wasn’t around, but that had always felt more guard-dog than anything, like he was staking claim on Nikandros’ behalf. </p><p>It reached a point where Laurent had to accept that Damen would never want him. Not like that. And that was okay, because Laurent had Nikandros now. And for the first time in a long time, Laurent was happy. </p><p>Their first month of dating, Laurent laughed more than he had even laughed in his life. It surprised Nikandros. It definitely surprised Laurent. Damen had walked into their kitchen once to see Laurent covering his mouth and trying to contain himself, and the look of shock on his face had only made Laurent laugh harder. </p><p>Their second month of dating, Laurent learned what it felt like to really let go during sex. He couldn’t get enough of Nikandros, and he didn’t expect to like how it felt to see how Nikandros couldn’t get enough of him. Laurent was always pulling Nikandros into empty classrooms, or barely breathing normal before rolling back on top of him and kissing his satisfied smile. He felt like he’d unlocked a new part of himself.</p><p>Their third month of dating, Laurent’s mother had gotten very sick. Laurent needed solitude when he was angry and he hated it when he was sad, and Nikandros knew that because he just always knew what other people needed. He would show up and not speak, and hold Laurent in his bed while he lay furious with the world, holding Nikandros back tighter.  </p><p>Their fourth month of dating, Laurent knew he was in love.</p><p>He was. It was disgusting, and giddy, and everything Laurent had never thought he would have. He wanted to hide his smile and tell strangers about it. It was an unexplainable feeling that pounded inside Laurent’s chest, too much to fit into one singular heart.</p><p>And maybe that’s what it was. Laurent had so much love inside him that he <em>couldn’t</em> contain it. It had to be split.</p><p>It was true that love was nothing like people explained it to you. Growing up, no one told you that you might find it in more than one place. You find your soulmate. Your <em>one</em>. No fairytales prepared you for the feeling of that sentiment being ripped down the middle, figuratively and literally. Laurent didn’t know how to live with it, so he just had to. </p><p>The three of them became inseparable. Damen and Nikandros were like brothers, and Laurent was wedged somewhere in between them. Damen was one of Laurent’s own closest friends, only second to Nikandros because there was no one like Nikandros. It made Laurent feel good to have them both at his side, powerful. A rumor had gone around their senior year that Nikandros and Damen both shared Laurent; It had made them both blush and it made Laurent stupidly turned on. It took him a long time to get the image out of his head. The first time Damen came to Laurent’s mind when he was actually <em>with</em> Nikandros, he felt so much shame that he couldn’t look him in the eye after. </p><p>They all went away together their final spring break of school. They got drunk every night, and alcohol lowered both Laurent and Nikandros’ inhibitions enough that they didn’t care who saw them. Laurent remembered pulling Nikandros off to the bar’s bathroom and seeing Damen wink at them before they went. He walked in on them more than once that trip, laughing each time before apologizing and reaching for the doorknob. One night, when Laurent was on top, Nikandros had rolled him over and fucked back into him before the door had even shut.</p><p>The months went on. Their weird, unexpected dynamic went on. Graduation came and went and they all started their lives by each other’s side, as If there was ever a chance of anything else. Damen continued to rotate through whoever was catching his eye at that moment, and Laurent continued to fall harder in love than he thought was possible. </p><p>Damen seemed incredibly happy the night of Laurent and Nikandros’ wedding. He gave the best man’s speech and charmed everyone in the room, and Laurent watched him talk about found family and how right Laurent and Nikandros were for each other, and it was the night Laurent finally closed the book on his wistful, youthful wishes. He was ready to let go, and he was ready to start a life with Nikandros. He was so happy with him.</p><p>Damen sat down in front of them at the end of the night, drunkenly hazy and gentle eyed. <em>My two favorite people,</em> he’d said. <em>You deserve this.</em></p><p>Laurent had watched them hug, clapping each other on the back and clinging to one another. Laurent was incredibly lucky to have them both. He needed them. He would never allow anyone to tear them apart. </p><p>*</p><p>Something Laurent loved about Nikandros: he loved to cook.</p><p>Not in the, <em>”I need to cook to stay fit,”</em> way, or even the, <em>”I’m good at it and it’s easy, so why not?”</em> way. He genuinely enjoyed creating intricate meals, making up recipes and impressing everyone. Laurent loved it because he personally hated cooking, and Nikandros liked it enough for the both of them, and because his husband looked very sexy moving around their kitchen with his shirt off. </p><p>Laurent had sat himself on the counter now, leaning back on the cabinet as he watched Nikandros riffle through the spice rack. He usually got in a weird, overly focused zone when he was cooking a big meal, but sometimes he allowed himself to be drawn between Laurent’s legs and held for a kiss. Laurent tended to get impatient in these kinds of moments, which Nikandros knew and poorly pretended not to take advantage of. Last week he’d told Laurent that he’d get attention soon if he was good, and he’d ended the night getting fucked against the counter while dinner burned a few feet away.</p><p>Laurent didn’t feel like being good that evening. He tugged at the back of Nikandros shirt, circling his fingers through the belt loops and pulling. “Come here.”</p><p>“Not right now.”</p><p>“Just – “ Laurent tugged at him again like a petulant child. “Just for a minute.”</p><p>“I need to get this started,” Nikandros said. He ran a finger along the edge of a knife blade, testing the sharpness. </p><p>“Dinner isn’t going anywhere,” Laurent said. “But my mood might.”</p><p>Nikandros chanced a short glance over his shoulder. His eyebrow was raised. “I doubt that.”</p><p>Laurent, expecting some kind of comment, threw the baby carrot he was holding at the back of Nikandros’ head. He remained unphased, by that and Laurent’s subsequent groan, so he simply jumped off the counter edge and pressed himself against Nikandros’ back.</p><p>“You could fuck me,” Laurent said, as close as he could to Nikandros’ ear. He had both of his hands around him, slid up under the front of Nikandros’ shirt, feeling the tight ripples of his stomach. His own skin felt warm. “Here. Or in our bed.”</p><p>“Laurent,” Nikandros said, in the same warning tone he got when Laurent touched his thigh in public restaurants. </p><p>“Or I could fuck you,” Laurent suggested. It had surprised the both of them how much Nikandros had liked that the first time, gripping Laurent’s hips and urging him to go harder. He’d looked like a dream afterwards, dazed and red cheeked and covered in his own spend. Laurent thought of that now, how badly he wanted it, and he felt delirious with need as he rubbed himself against the backs of his thighs.</p><p>“Laurent,” Nikandros repeated. He’d gripped the hand that Laurent had been working around his belt buckle, but he didn’t let go as he turned himself around, facing Laurent in the narrow kitchen.</p><p>Laurent kissed him with both hands on his face, moving down to his neck so he could pull Nikandros into him, parting his lips for him. He was backed into the fridge, gasping at the press of cold against his back, and that gasp turned to a broken sound when Nikandros pulled away.</p><p>“Damen is coming.” He spoke against Laurent’s lips, like the words were meant to be tantalizing. </p><p>Laurent panted into the kiss, arching when Nikandros smoothed his own hand up the front of Laurent’s shirt. Damen was – he couldn’t think, Nikandros was finally touching him, and words were mixing in his mind and skewing where they should not.</p><p>“So we’ll –“ Laurent closed his eyes when Nikandros properly pulled away, swallowing down another sound. “Just order takeout or something.”</p><p>“He’s on some new diet,” Nikandros said. He was stepping away, snapping back far easier than Laurent could. It was infuriating. “No fast food.”</p><p>Damen and his fucking health regimes. Laurent rubbed a hand down his face.  “Why doesn’t Kashel cook for him.”</p><p>“They broke up.” Nikandros was back at the cutting board, gathering all of the onions he’d already chopped with the side of the knife. He swiped it with a towel. “I think he’s seeing some guy from his gym.”</p><p>Laurent turned towards the fridge. He was rummaging blindly thought the bright light, feeling the cool air on his face as he pushed jars aside. He didn’t know why he felt so irritated, or why he was acting like this was new. Damen rarely focused on one person for more than a month. He was pretty sure he and Nikandros were the only people that had held his attention to any capacity. </p><p>It was because Laurent liked Kashel, probably. She was forward and fun and didn’t take shit from Damen. Most people took anything from Damen, too dumbstruck and awed to speak up around him or his soft brown eyes. Laurent didn’t get it. It was so eleventh grade. </p><p>“Why?” Nikandros asked with another glance back. “Is something wrong?”</p><p>“Yes.” Laurent was still standing half in the fridge. “I’d like an orgasm.”</p><p>He watched as Nikandros’ features took on a goofy, lopsided grin, and it did stupid things inside his chest. He turned away before he looked at him the same way.</p><p>“Well, we – “</p><p>“Hey.” The front door slammed, Laurent’s mind in too much of a frenzy for him to have heard the lock working, and then Damen was standing in the doorway with his hands on the post. “Sorry I’m late.”</p><p>“Hi,” Laurent said. “Stop being sporadically healthy.” </p><p>“I knew you’d be bitchy about me cutting carbs,” Damen said. He nudged Laurent aside with his shoulder, pulling a bottle of water off the door’s shelf. “I brought you cookies.” </p><p>“Baby,” Nikandros wrapped his fingers around Laurent’s wrist. “Season the salad for me.”</p><p>Damen ended up in Laurent’s abandoned spot on the countertop, watching the two of them work together with the bottle lingering by his mouth. </p><p>*</p><p>It was a good night. It always was when the three of them hung out, which was most of the time. Damen was volunteering at a hospital to gain the experience while he made his way through medical school, and the days he took a shift always came with more stories than you would expect from the environment he was in. Damen had always spoken with more than just his mouth, and the way he engaged himself in the topic of conversation always made you feel like you had been there, experiencing it with him.</p><p>Laurent had ended up on Nikandros’ lap halfway through the meal. He’d gotten up to get more napkins and was pulled down on his knees when he’d come back. He hadn’t felt the need to argue as Damen pushed his plate towards him with an amused look, not missing a beat.</p><p>Somewhere towards the end of dinner, Nikandros got a call from one of his clients and had to walk into the hall to take it. Most of the food was gone and Laurent was rolling what was left of it around on his plate, watching Damen watch him.</p><p>“Okay.” Laurent set his fork down.  “What happened to Kashel?”</p><p>Damen shrugged. He spun his own spoon around his palm. “I got bored.”</p><p>It was that simple with him. It was a pretty obnoxious comment to make, but Laurent knew he didn’t mean anything bad by it. Damen was too straightforward to stick with someone he no longer had interest in. The second it started to wane, he cut loose. </p><p>Laurent found himself laughing, pushing himself up from the table. He gathered all the empty glasses, grabbing them in one hand and the breadbasket in the other.</p><p>“What?” Damen called after him.</p><p>“Nothing,” Laurent said. He set them down in the sink. “I guess I should be happy you don’t get bored with us so easily.” </p><p>“I don’t know.” Damen had joined him in the kitchen, carrying the rest of the plates and cutlery. The kitchen wasn’t very large, Damen alone took up most of the space. “Maybe if we were sleeping together.”</p><p>“Please.” Laurent took everything from him, puling the dishwasher open with his other hand before setting them down. He then threw the towel at Damen’s chest. “That would not make you bored of me.”</p><p>Damen caught it, grinning. Sometimes Damen looked at him like they were still in high school, free spirited and not bound down by adulthood. He slung it over his shoulder. </p><p>Laurent turned back to the sink, letting the water run. They weren’t in high school anymore.</p><p>*</p><p>Nikandros was very subtle about the things he loved.</p><p>Laurent had always known this about him, as soon as he’d gotten to know him enough that the exterior layer of unfamiliarity was peeled away. There was nothing intentionally elusive about it, it was just how he was. He didn’t make his quirks or habits known. He didn’t drop comments about his interests to excess. Laurent didn’t mind it, he liked the process of getting to know him, to feel like he was the one of few who even did. </p><p>Nikandros was like that with his most things. He wouldn’t talk about how he liked to be active, then Laurent would finally get a text back that he’d been on a four hour hike by himself. He wouldn’t make any explicit hints about what he was into in bed, seemingly standard, and then he would slap Laurent on the ass or pull his hair and Laurent would be encouraged by a whole new host of things for them to try out.</p><p>It meant that Nikandros was always surprising him. And in turn, Laurent tried to surprise him as well. When he’d learned about his fascination with Alfred Hitchcock movies, he drove them two hours out of town to take him to a drive in theater that was playing his best films all night. When he learned of his secret penchant for Chinese food, he’d looked up six recipes and tried to make it all from scratch. The smoke alarm had gone off and he was of the personal opinion that it all tasted like slop, but Nikandros had laughed and eaten it all and told Laurent it was the worst lo mein he’d ever had the pleasure of eating. </p><p>But throughout it all they maintained their individuality, which Laurent also liked. Laurent didn’t care much for sports and Nikandros wasn’t that interested in reading, so that night they sat together in the living room as Nikandros watched the game, Laurent sprawled across him with a book balancing on his knees. Nikandros’ hand was in Laurent’s hair. His touch was idle, soothing. It was raining out, loud enough that it surrounded them like a song. It was all blissfully domestic. </p><p>At halftime, Laurent closed his book and threw it on the coffee table, right by where Nikandros’ feet were propped up. He linked his fingers against his stomach, glancing up at his husband. </p><p>“How’s the game going?”</p><p>“Good.” Nikandros pushed his hair off his forehead.</p><p>“Are you winning?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Good,” Laurent said. “Kiss me.”</p><p>So he did. The angle was bad and it was hard for Laurent to find a rhythm when their positions were so awkward, and it made Laurent as eager and breathless as it had when he was a teenager, freshly in love.</p><p>*</p><p>The hospital Damen volunteered at was a five-minute drive from Laurent’s office. They often met up throughout the day if one was on a break and felt like making a detour, or if they were leaving at the same time then Damen would just follow him back to the apartment. Damen’s lunch hour was flexible, he usually took it when he wanted it, and that day it was at Laurent’s usual break of 1:00 PM that his phone lit up with a text. <em><strong>Lunch?</strong></em></p><p>Laurent rapped his fingers against his desk for a few seconds before he wrote back, <em><strong>Give me ten minutes.</strong></em></p><p>It took him longer than ten minutes to finish what he had been working on, and then he had an unexpected phone meeting that took around fifteen minutes. Texting Damen an explanation would have only delayed him further, so he just threw his things into his desk and got to the café as quickly as he could.</p><p>Damen was at their usual table when Laurent arrived, slightly out of breath and not giving him the credit to see that he was. He was in his scrubs, which was infuriating.  He was also waiting with Laurent’s usual order already at the open seat, which was just as infuriating. </p><p>“Sorry,” Laurent dropped his coat on the back of his chair. “It was hectic. How much time to do you have left?”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” he waved a hand. Things were that cavalier when you viewed life the way Damen did.  </p><p>So he didn’t. They spoke about work and an upcoming project Laurent had, and two nurses Damen caught in the utility closet at the hospital. (No, that is apparently not just a cliché. No, they did not stop because Damen walked in on them.) They spoke about a show they both watched that Nikandros never got into, namely because they’d started it without him and were too far in once he heard about it. Laurent didn’t even think Damen liked it at first. Laurent was sick and Nikandros was away on a day trip, and sometimes Damen was just there when you needed someone. </p><p>“How’s Nikandros been?” Damen asked, once their plates had been cleared and they were waiting for the check. It was well past both of their lunch breaks. </p><p>“You know how he’s been.” Laurent listened to the ice rattle around in his glass. “You got drinks with him last night.”</p><p>“Yeah, but,” Damen shrugged. “He’s different with you.”</p><p>Laurent set his cup down. His fingers left condensation marks. “He’s stressed about work. He doesn’t think he’ll get this new client.”</p><p>“He will,” Damen said simply. “Nikandros gets everything he wants.”</p><p>That felt rich coming from Damen, but somehow not spiteful. He likely didn’t even notice the irony. </p><p>“Everything?” Laurent asked him.</p><p>The waiter arrived, setting the bill down between both of their plates. Damen was still looking at Laurent when he reached for it. </p><p>“Yes,” he opened it. “Everything.”</p><p>*</p><p>Damen’s apartment was much like him. The colors were muted. It was warm and cozy. He had a plant in his living room that he insisted on keeping around, despite the fact that he had no idea how to handle a plant and it continued to die. Laurent had taken to keeping it alive himself, which meant that he had to spend much more time alone at Damen’s than was strictly necessary. When he explained this logic to Damen and how he should just get rid of it or give it to Laurent altogether, he received a frown and the subsequent appearance of a second plant in his bedroom. </p><p>His bedroom was probably the only spot in the apartment that had any real amount of his personality showing through. He had a stack of his favorite records shelved on a desk. A guitar in the corner that Kastor had taught him to play. An authentic dartboard. A picture of his birth mom, who he never spoke about. </p><p>Damen and Nikandros were sprawled on his bed, Damen’s feet hitched up and Nikandros’ hanging off the edge. There was a joint between Nikandros’ fingers that he’d just taken from Damen, gazing up at the ceiling as he brought it to his lips. They looked seventeen. Laurent couldn’t look away from them.</p><p>Laurent didn’t smoke often for this reason. He got too mellow, too loose limbed to really think. He was sprawled on the ground with his shoulders propped up on a cushion, feeling as if he was going to melt into a puddle and seep towards them, bleeding into their skin. He rubbed his forehead as he thought of it. Then he was laughing.</p><p>Damen’s laugh was throaty. “Would you care to share?”</p><p>Laurent didn’t. “Keep talking about whatever you were talking about.”</p><p>“It was nothing important,” Nikandros said. He put out what was left in the ashtray on the windowsill, and then inclined his fingers. “Come here.”</p><p>Laurent did. It wasn’t really a question which thrilled him, he felt like it was Nikandros’ voice and the look in his eyes that was pulling Laurent off the carpet, drawing him forward and into the spot between Nikandros’ shoulder and neck. The bed was large but their positions were all off, Laurent ended up sandwiched between them with his legs half on Damen.</p><p>Nikandros’ arm around him felt like security. It was so hot but he didn’t mind it.  Laurent liked how their bodies tangled, how he could smell Nikandros’ cologne and feel him breathe, with a sturdiness on either side of him. He felt, suddenly, years younger and far less mature.</p><p>When the doorbell rang with their pizza, it was Nikandros who offered to get up and get it. He had to unwind himself from around Laurent to do so, and he grinned and kissed his neck when Laurent tried to cling to him. He grabbed the first wallet within reach after righting his shirt, and then the bedroom door was left ajar.</p><p>“So,” Laurent said. Muffled voices could be heard outside. “How’s the guy from your gym?”</p><p>Damen brushed Laurent’s hair off his neck for him. “What guy from my gym?” </p><p>“Nikandros said you were seeing some new guy,” he said, turning his head to face Damen. It felt like he was always asking Damen about who he was seeing every time they hung out, which probably wouldn’t happen if Damen wasn’t set on fucking the entire state of Delpha.  “From you gym,” he added dumbly.</p><p>Damen’s eyes were obscure. He squinted, blinked, and then made a bemused face. “Oh, him?” he said, like that changed any of the context Laurent had. “I wasn’t – that was just. You know.” </p><p>He’d shifted onto his side so he could also better face him. Laurent looked at him, and looked, and then he breathed out through his nose as he rubbed his fingers against his temples. </p><p>“I see that look you’re giving me,” Damen said. “Stop slut shaming me.”</p><p>Laurent dropped his hand on the mattress. It was loud and clumsy. “I’m not in your wishful fan club,” he said to the wall. “I don’t care who you fuck.”</p><p>“But you do care.”</p><p>Laurent turned back to him.</p><p>“About me,” Damen said.</p><p>Laurent was so tired. He just wanted to close his eyes and keep them closed, and never have to think again.</p><p>*</p><p>Laurent was having a terrible day.</p><p>Bad circumstances weren’t an excuse for bad behavior. Laurent knew that. Plenty of people went through tough things without using it as a catalyst to lashing out, or fucking up. That wasn’t what Laurent was doing. He was simply stating the facts of how everything transpired. He had an awful day. He reacted. He fucked up. </p><p>What had happened wasn’t relevant. It was just one of those days where everything that could have gone wrong did, and Laurent needed someone by the end of it. Nikandros wasn’t there, away on a two-day business trip to Thrace. He hardly went away for work, certainly not as often as his job required, but he ignored Laurent’s insistences that he didn’t mind because he didn’t want to leave Laurent. It just so happened to be the one time that his absence fell on the night Laurent didn’t want to be alone. </p><p>He didn’t question it when he ended up at Damen’s door. They had all been doing this for years, turning to each other when they couldn’t hold themselves up on their own. They each showed it in their own ways, and they knew each other well enough to recognize what it was. </p><p>Laurent couldn’t remember how long it took Damen to get to the door. He was barefoot in basketball shorts and a hoodie, his phone pressed to his ear. He took one look at Laurent before he stepped back and said, “I gotta go.”</p><p>They remained in the doorway as Laurent shifted from one foot to the other, looking over Damen’s shoulder. “Am I interrupting you?”</p><p>“Do you want to go somewhere?” Damen asked.</p><p>Laurent shook his head. He definitely didn’t want to go back into the world.</p><p>“Do you want to go back to your apartment?”</p><p>Laurent considered it for a moment. Nikandros wasn’t there. He wanted Nikandros. He shook his head. </p><p>Damen took another step back. “Come in.”</p><p>They ended up on Damen’s couch, facing each other with a bottle of tequila between them. Laurent’s knees were pulled up to his chest, and he had a bag of potato chips wedged between his side and the backrest. Damen had asked him what he wanted and Laurent had told him to stop asking questions, so Damen pointed to the couch and disappeared into the kitchen, and when he came out with his arms full Laurent felt a helpless sweep of gratitude that he had two people who knew what he needed. </p><p>Laurent’s lips were numb. The ends of his fingers were numb, and the anxious coils around his chest felt unwound enough that he could breathe. Damen was just as drunk as him. Laurent couldn’t say how he knew, he couldn’t even really identify his physical tells, it was just something years of exposure to someone offered you. </p><p>Laurent leaned over to place the bottle on the table, and it took him a second to realize that he just missed the edge. Damen grabbed his wrist, took the bottle from him with his other hand, and pulled Laurent back upright after setting it down on the ground.</p><p>“Do you want me to order something?” Damen asked. “We should eat more than just chips.”</p><p>Laurent made a disagreeing sound. “I’m okay,” he said. “Thank you.”</p><p>Laurent didn’t know why that made Damen smile. The alcohol softened the edges of it and Laurent’s heart along with it, and he suddenly felt incredibly shy. It wasn’t like him, but he wasn’t really much himself that day to begin with. He looked at his fingers.</p><p>“Are you ready to talk?” Damen asked. </p><p>“There’s nothing to talk about,” Laurent said. “Really. Just a shitty day.”</p><p>And it was the truth. But also, Laurent knew himself. Alcohol loosened his tongue too much and he hadn’t yet built up the tolerance that he wanted, and he knew if he started talking then he wouldn’t stop. Everything would come out, more than Laurent should ever share, and he didn’t want that. So he kept his mouth shut and he stared forward, and told himself that Damen wasn’t looking at him any differently than he did every day.</p><p>“You know you can talk to me,” Damen said. “I know I’m not Nikandros but I want to help you, too.”</p><p>Laurent was silent.</p><p>Damen’s sleeves were rolled up. He rubbed a palm against his forearm. “You were there for me for everything with my dad,” he said. “And my stepmom.”</p><p>That was also how Laurent knew Damen was drunk. He didn’t open up about anything to anyone, including himself. He felt like he was intruding on something now, even if it was Damen who was volunteering the information.</p><p>“I just want to be there for you, too,” Damen said.</p><p>The couch was small. They were sitting very close, Laurent didn’t even have to reach over to grip at Damen’s hand that kept jerking at his hoodie’s string, holding it still. He tugged lightly. </p><p>“You’re always there, Damen.”</p><p>Damen didn’t smile at Laurent again. There were no soft edges or gentle eyes. There was nothing tender about a moment where you made a giant mistake. </p><p>Laurent didn’t know who had leaned in first. He supposed it was better that way – if he could tell who it was then his mind would have someone to point the finger at, but that wasn’t fair, and it didn’t matter. They were both to blame. They were both wrong. </p><p>Laurent knew the second his lips touched Damen’s that he’d done something terrible, but he also knew there was no going back. He could breathe for the first time that day. Numbness melted away and became fire at the tips of his fingers, curling into Damen’s sweater and pulling them closer together. </p><p>Laurent couldn’t stop kissing him. He was starving for it, he was ungraceful and dizzy and he couldn’t stop kissing him, moaning as Damen sucked his lip between his own and licked into his open mouth.</p><p>Damen followed Laurent down as he pushed him against the arm of the couch, crowding him with his body and confining him. His hand had moved beneath Laurent’s shirt, pressing against his stomach and making him writhe against him. His palm curved against the dip of Laurent’s hipbone as he kissed him harder, just as frantic and graceless. That was one of Nikandros’ favorite spots on him. He’d left a mark there with his mouth that morning before he’d –</p><p>“Stop.” The word sounded like it had come from someone else, Laurent had never heard himself sound like that. “Stop. <em>Damen.</em>”</p><p>Laurent ended up a few feet away, his hand covering his mouth. He hadn’t felt the moment he’d gotten up, he had no idea if Damen moved or was pushed. His head was spinning so fast that he gripped the first flat surface he could find, the table that was lining the wall behind him.</p><p>Laurent’s heart was pounding in his ears. He could hear each individual beat; it was so loud that he thought Nikandros might be able to hear it from his hotel.</p><p>Laurent’s stomach lurched. His head was in his hands but even that was too much, it was blocking off his breathing and he needed air. He needed to – he was grappling around him, trying to find everything of his that was tossed around, but he felt like even that was evading him.</p><p>“Laurent,” Damen said.</p><p>He spoke from the couch. He was in the same spot, not having made any sign to get up or move himself from where he’d just been holding Laurent down, kissing his neck.</p><p>“Don’t,” Laurent said. It was the same tone as before, hysterical and foreign. Probably the same person who’d entered his body and done this. “Just –“</p><p>Laurent didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t look for his jacket, or anything of importance that he might have left. He gripped his phone and turned on his heel, and then he fled.</p><p>*</p><p>There were three spots of paint on the ceiling. </p><p>Three different sized splatters, each one a deep burgundy shade that was an extremely noticeable accent to the otherwise stark white ceiling. Nikandros was excessively meticulous about certain things, he operated his best when everything was clean and in order. Laurent didn’t have much of an opinion either way, but he operated his most amused when he was driving his husband a little crazy. So when they had been painting one of the guest rooms Laurent had dipped a brush into the bucket, climbed up on the side table and dabbed three random spots above Nikandros’ head.</p><p>Nikandros had squirmed, and twitched a little, and the pained expression on his face had been too much for Laurent to keep an even composure. Laurent had intended to cover it right back up after, but Nikandros had pinned him against the wall and kissed him hard like it was a punishment, and Laurent insisted they keep it because he wanted to remember that moment. </p><p>Laurent looked at that stain now, hating himself. </p><p>He’d never felt something like this before. He felt as if one of his lungs had been torn out, like every bad thing he’d even done was weighing on his chest now, refusing him the oblivion of sleep. The idea only made Laurent feel worse. He was the one who’d done something awful, yet he was lying in bed for hours on end with a pain that made him too heavy to stand. He had done the damage. He couldn’t also claim the luxury of wallow, and yet there he was. </p><p>His phone vibrated by his head. He’d lost track of what number that was for the hour, just as he’d lost track of how many messages he’d deleted. Laurent clicked onto his texts, the screen a little bleary. The newest words swam in front of his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>Please. You’re my best friend.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Laurent swiped left. Delete. And then with robotic fingers, he typed back for the first time.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong>So is Nikandros.</strong>
  </em>
</p><p>Sleep didn’t come.</p><p>*</p><p>Except that it did.</p><p>Laurent only realized he’d been asleep when his eyes came open, and everything around him was bathed in shadows. His head hurt and his limbs felt sluggish, and it took him a second to realize he wasn’t alone.</p><p>He tried to push himself up, and was stilled by a gentle hand on his shoulder, keeping him down with little pressure. The room was dark but Laurent could just make out his silhouette. He would know the touch of his hands anywhere. </p><p>“Sleep,” Nikandros whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”</p><p>Laurent’s heart grew full like an inhale of oxygen. Nikandros was back. It had only been a day but he’d missed him so much, he felt whole again. He wouldn’t let Laurent get up so he pulled him down, three lethargic tugs before he was laughing softly. </p><p>“Okay,” Nikandros amended, and then he was stretching out beside Laurent. He was already stripped to sweatpants and nothing else. He’d been home for a while. </p><p>Nikandros kissed him softly, like he didn’t want to disturb Laurent despite the way he was clinging to him. His arms wrapped around Laurent’s middle, holding him close against the sleep warm sheets. Laurent mapped the skin of his back, reluctant to pull away.</p><p>“You’re back early,” he said.</p><p>Nikandros thumbed at the skin of his earlobe. “We’ll talk in the morning,” he said. “It’s late.”</p><p>“I missed you,” Laurent said. His voice said it as much as the words. </p><p>Nikandros touched his lips with a small smile. “Damen didn’t take care of you while I was gone?”</p><p>The memory hit Laurent like a clap of thunder. Salt on his lips, a strong body pressing into his. Something in Laurent snapped. He felt it, physically. A crack in his chest that broke through his ribcage, sourness spreading throughout his veins like poison. Laurent was sure it showed on his face, he wouldn’t be surprised if his skin changed color. He was soaked in his anguish. </p><p>It must have not showed, because Nikandros’ smile took on a sleepy sort of shape. He leaned forward, tipping their heads together, and pressed his lips to Laurent’s forehead. </p><p>“I missed you too.” He drew the blanket over them, over Laurent’s shaking bones. “Goodnight, Laurent.”</p><p>*</p><p>If there was one thing Laurent knew how to do, it was lie. </p><p>It was an opposing skill to have. It had come in handy throughout his life, more times than he could count. It wasn’t the outward act as much as it was the omission. The softening of a hard truth. The ability to skid through uneasy situations. He had seen people on the spot or faced with a standoff that required some form of deceit, and it would be fundamentally clear that it was out of their capacity. In those moments, Laurent had been grateful for his devious side.</p><p>There was nothing gratifying about lying to the man you loved.</p><p>Laurent had woken up that morning to Nikandros’ lips on the exposed skin of his shoulder, and he thought his heart had sunk down to his toes. He’d turned Laurent onto his back and told him he’d come home late at night so he could see how Laurent looked in the morning, and Laurent thought he might weep. He lingered in bed and pressed his mouth to every part of Laurent’s body, and Laurent wanted him so badly that he was willing to deal with how sick he made himself after.</p><p>Laurent did want him. He’d always wanted Nikandros; from the moment he’d seen his heart and knew who he was. He couldn’t explain why he had done what he did, except that he could. It was true that he wanted Nikandros more than he could put into words, but he had never been the only person Laurent had wanted. </p><p>There had been a point where Laurent had convinced himself that it was just a fantasy. Plenty of people had eyes for only one person and still fantasized about a third person joining them, or about experimenting in more unconventional ways. He genuinely thought that in those circumstances, it didn’t mean anything. </p><p>But Laurent was as honest as he was duplicitous. He had known, even in those grappling moments, that it hadn’t been about experimentation. He wasn’t broadening his bed play, or looking for extra stimulation. He didn’t want more. He wanted Damen. </p><p>Laurent didn’t tell Nikandros yet because he didn’t know how to. He knew it was an empty reason to push it off, because there was simply nothing in existence to justify this kind of admission. Waiting was fruitless because he wouldn’t find it; he just had to do it. He just needed to tell Nikandros about what they’d done.</p><p>He would. Laurent promised himself that he would. He just – </p><p>Not yet.</p><p>*<br/>
It was five days and around thirty ignored calls before Laurent saw Damen.</p><p>It would have been longer if Laurent had it his way, but Damen didn’t care about what anyone else wanted. When he had a goal he achieved it, and so Laurent could do nothing but stare when Nikandros walked into their bedroom and said he was joining them for dinner. </p><p>“We don’t have any food,” he said as a weak attempt. Of course they had food. It just sounded like what people said when they didn’t want their husband’s best friend who they’d drunkenly made out with over for dinner.</p><p>“They’re bringing pizza or something,” Nikandros said. He had a white towel around his waist and the tips of his hair were still dripping water from his shower. </p><p>Laurent’s eyes flicked up. “They?”</p><p>“Lykaios,” Nikandros said, spraying himself with cologne. He hadn’t shaved before the shower; his stubble was coming in. “She’s one of the nurses Damen works with.”</p><p>He was blinking more than necessary. “You know her?”</p><p>“I stopped by the hospital the other day to give Damen something.” He spoke as he rummaged through his dresser, the second drawer where he kept his more casual clothes. “They were having lunch in the cafeteria.”</p><p>Laurent didn’t know why he was frowning. “What day?”</p><p>Nikandros glanced over his shoulder. “Tuesday?” he said. “Monday, maybe. I don’t know. Why?”</p><p>Laurent didn’t know why. He was being erratic. He didn’t want to talk about Damen. </p><p>“What’s she like?”</p><p>Nikandros was shrugging his shirt on. If he had any kind of look on his face, Laurent couldn’t tell. “Shy,” he said. He reached for his watch. “Pretty. Damen’s type.”</p><p>Nikandros didn’t know as much about Damen’s type as he thought he did. Damen liked to pretend like he wanted someone submissive when really, he needed someone who would go head to head with him. </p><p>But he didn’t want to talk about Damen. “How long until they come?”</p><p>Nikandros looked at his wrist. “Half hour, I guess.”</p><p>“Good,” Laurent said. “Come here.”</p><p>Nikandros came forward, not without some of that arrogant look that he’d often worn when they were younger, the one that never really went away. Laurent loved that look. </p><p>He stopped in front of the bed, raising a dark brow. “We don’t have that much time.”</p><p>“I’m not worried about you,” Laurent replied, because he wanted Nikandros to narrow his eyes or give Laurent the other look, the one that made his stomach clench and his neck hot.</p><p>“Nice try,” Nikandros said, but he still tugged at the back of Laurent’s hair a bit, tilting his chin up with his knuckle. Laurent knew that if he wanted, he could make it so they had time. As Nikandros’ eyes held his, Laurent really considered it.</p><p>But that hadn’t been what he’d wanted. Now right now. And so he took a hold of Nikandros’ arm and tugged, coaxing until they were sitting beside each other on the bed. </p><p>Laurent pushed him down, leaning his cheek on Nikandros’ chest.</p><p>“Tell me about your week,” he said. </p><p>*</p><p>Dinner was a disaster. </p><p>The pizza was their favorite one in town. The conversation was effortless. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, happy to reach the point of the day where they could decompress and just be.</p><p>So really, it was Laurent who was the disaster. He was imploding. It was the only way to put it. He had to give himself a pep talk to go greet them when they got there, because he couldn’t have dinner with everyone else from the solitude of his closet. He wondered if he’d have to hug Damen, because they typically did that when they saw each other after some time. It was usually more of a show than an actual hug, Damen scooping Lauren up in his arms and lifting him off his feet. He did it to irritate Laurent, like it would irk him to be reminded of how small his relatively average height seemed in comparison. Really, it just made Laurent blush into his shoulder.</p><p>Damen didn’t do that when he saw Laurent. He wondered if it was because he’d brought a date, or because he didn’t have the stomach with Nikandros standing five feet away.</p><p>Laurent contributed to the conversation enough that no one made him give more than he already was. He was fine. It was all fine. He was just minding his own business, enjoying his food and throwing a comment here and there when he felt like it. No one looked in his direction oddly. Damen never looked in his direction. </p><p>He could feel the evening steering to an end when the boxes were empty and their voiced dimmed down. Lykaios really was shy, and she gave everyone an apologetic look when her phone chimed a monotone sound, the same one Damen set for work related alerts. She excused herself and stepped out into the hallway, and Nikandros excused himself to the balcony with a cigarette. </p><p>Laurent didn’t bother excusing himself. He allowed one second of the reality to sink in before he thought <em>nope</em>, and then he was stacking everything he could into one armful before taking it into the kitchen.</p><p>Laurent didn’t need to look to know that Damen was behind him. He made himself known with the way he walked, and with the way he made Laurent’s heart pound with his proximity. Laurent kept his eyes on the sink, on the water covering everything he’d unceremoniously dumped in, scrubbing and scrubbing at sauce that had cleaned off with one wipe. </p><p>“And you say I repress things,” Damen said.</p><p>Laurent squeezed more soap on the sponge. </p><p>“Laurent.” It was a tone that Laurent didn’t care to acknowledge, and an advance that he didn’t need in that moment, not with Nikandros right outside and sweet and pretty Lykaios back at any minute. The water scolded his hands, turning his skin pink as he scrubbed and scrubbed.</p><p>The touch of Damen’s hand against his back caused his stomach to surge. He hadn’t been expecting it, and he could tell Damen hadn’t expected for Laurent to flinch from the way he immediately removed it, stepping away like he crossed some invisible line. As if they both hadn’t already done that.</p><p>Laurent turned because he knew this conversation needed to be had, and because if Damen touched him again then he would most likely break down, whatever exactly that meant. He wiped his hands off on his pants, staring up at him. “What.”</p><p>That pissed Damen off, which pleased Laurent. Nikandros sometimes said that Laurent got intentionally irritating when he was in a tense situation.</p><p>Pleasure quickly evaporated to nothing.</p><p>“You know what,” Damen said. “I gave you days to avoid it, but we’re going to talk about this.”</p><p>He was speaking way too loud for Laurent’s peace of mine. Laurent lowered his hands in a gesture that hopefully said <em>shut the fuck up,</em> then he leaned over the counter and closed the little wooden doors that blocked off the kitchen.</p><p>He turned the faucet back on. “How are nonstop calls and texts giving me time?”</p><p>“We don’t need <em>time</em>,” Damen said. He was speaking more quite now that precautions were put in, because he made no fucking sense and lived to confuse Laurent in every conceivable manner. “We need to talk.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to talk about,” Laurent said. </p><p>Damen’s eyes narrowed. He stepped into Laurent’s space. “You can’t just –“</p><p>“There is nothing,” Laurent repeated, “To talk about.”</p><p>He didn’t care if he was being irritating. He didn’t care if it got Damen so fed up that he gave up on this conversation. It would be better that way. Laurent couldn’t do <em>this</em>, he couldn’t talk about it. He didn’t know how to even think about it, let alone pick it apart and discuss it like it was just another conversation topic they might throw between each other. It hurt too much. Laurent hurt too much. Damen was supposed to know Laurent so well, and yet he couldn’t seem to see that Laurent was falling apart. </p><p>Except that he did. It started with his eyes lowering. His pinched brows softening, the irritated lines giving until there was a new placed distance between them and a helplessness on his face that Laurent only knew because he felt it, too. </p><p>The water continued to run.</p><p>“Are you going to tell him?” Laurent asked. He couldn’t even say it. </p><p>“Are you?” Damen said.</p><p>Suppression. Deflection. They were both better at it than they gave themselves credit for. </p><p>“You can’t just shut me out,” Damen said. It wasn’t the words, it was the way he said them that made Laurent look away. “You can’t. You either keep being my friend, or you don’t. But you can’t just ignore my existence and hope it goes away.”</p><p>He was such an idiot sometimes. Damen’s intelligence was one of his greatest qualities and usually one of his most under looked, but Laurent had always known how smart he was. And yet, he went and said stupid things about Laurent hoping Damen would go away.</p><p>So as the apartment door closed and the unfamiliar footsteps approached, Laurent looked at Damen and said, “Friends.”</p><p>*</p><p><em>Friends</em> was a tenuous term.</p><p>In hindsight, he supposed that it always had been. Laurent might have pushed his juvenile feelings to his subconscious in the years before everything had happened but it didn’t mean that they weren’t still there, lingering in the back of his mind. He had told himself then that he put his longings behind him but if he really had, then they wouldn’t have resurfaced every so often, even in moments when Laurent thought he couldn’t be happier.  </p><p>Laurent’s feelings for Damen were like an old sweater that you long outgrew, two sizes too small but too favored to get rid of. So you kept it in the back of your closet and told yourself that there was no harm in keeping it, even if it would never fit again. He was the devil on Laurent’s shoulder, unseen but always there. And sometimes that devil would tap, and whisper into Laurent’s ear, and remind him he would only go away if Laurent forced him to. </p><p>They were never really just friends, because Laurent didn’t know how to be friends with someone he longed for and didn’t actually have. It didn’t even make sense, because Laurent wasn’t alone. He had Nikandros, and when he was with him he knew that there was never anyone in this world who he felt more whole with. Even when he wasn’t with him, he was in the back of his mind. Nikandros brought sides out of Laurent that he didn’t know existed. Sometimes Laurent would look at him and feel overwhelmed with how much he loved him. </p><p>And so Laurent threw himself into his marriage. Not because he felt like he should but because he wanted to. Because Nikandros made everything feel like it was okay. </p><p>Laurent showed up at his office on nights he had to work late with food. They’d lock the door and lounge on the carpeted floor and eat their messy burritos while Nikandros ran his presentations through Laurent, scribbling notes and throwing crumbled papers towards the garbage. They went to the theater and paid half of their attention to the movie, kissing and giving each other hand jobs like they were teenagers sneaking around. They did mundane couple things like clean the apartment and buy new cutlery that they would probably never unpack and keep buried somewhere in storage. </p><p>Throughout all of that, Damen was there. Going with them to restaurants. Showing up to help rearrange furniture but instead sprawling on the couch and talking sports with Nikandros. He was always there. Laurent’s friend. Just like old times. </p><p>They had yet to be alone since that night. One afternoon Damen showed up from the hospital with his books and asked if he could study for an exam there, and when Laurent asked why he didn’t study at his apartment he responded with <em>there’s no one to quiz me at my apartment.</em></p><p>Laurent had told him that he was actually going out and needed to get ready but Damen was welcome to stay if he wanted, and then Laurent stood under the cooling water for half an hour and stared at the tiled wall and willed himself not to smash things. </p><p>He got back from his last minute plans with Vannes to find Nikandros reading in their bed, which was a rare sight and for some reason always gave Laurent butterflies. He was a little tipsy and not in the mood to lie in silence and think, so he kicked his shoes off into the corner and clambered onto the bed, disturbing the sheets around them.</p><p>Something Laurent learned about himself was that he might have some slightly shallow tendencies. He appreciated things like a sharp mind and a kind heart, but then he would see Nikandros strip his clothing off after the gym or he’d watch him rub a soapy hand against the muscles in his back, and his mind would go absolutely, completely blank. </p><p>Laurent wanted him so badly that night; he felt it with a rush of hunger that he hardly recognized in himself. It hit him in a wave as he gripped Nikandros’s wrists between his fingers, straddling his waist and pinning his arms at his sides. He kissed him, and kissed him, and then he dragged his mouth along his chest and stomach and every smooth, beautiful bit of skin that he could find. He couldn’t easily mark him but he would try.</p><p>Laurent took Nikandros in his mouth with Nikandros’ hand curling in the sheets, his other steady against the back of his neck as he told Laurent how good he was, how much he wanted him. Laurent didn’t stop; he relaxed his throat so he could take him deeper, wanting to hear it. Nikandros was always honest but he could be filthy when he wanted to, he loved that he was the only one who experienced it.</p><p>Laurent pulled his lips off when Nikandros was close, moving up his body until their faces were touching. He took them both in his hand, slick from the way Nikandros had taken his fingers and brought them to his own mouth. Their lips brushed slack and open as he brought them off like that, inclining their heads after for a long, sated kiss.</p><p>After, they laid close together with their legs tangled, their breathing light. The open window swept cool air against their replete bodies, bringing in the scent of autumn and city life. Laurent had his cheek on Nikandros’ chest, and he thought he could drift off to sleep from the way Nikandros was winding his fingers through his hair.</p><p>“Did you have a good night?” Nikandros asked. His voice was very deep after sex.</p><p>Laurent closed his eyes. He nuzzled in closer, bringing an arm around his waist. He was so comfortable. “Yes,” he mumbled. “You would have had fun.”</p><p>Nikandros’ palm smoothed up his forehead. “I think Vannes scares me.”</p><p>Laurent smiled sleepily into his skin. “I know,” he said. “That’s why I would have had fun.”</p><p>Nikandros laughed. It was his short, private laugh. It made Laurent’s heart skip. He shifted himself enough to kiss Laurent on the head before getting situated again. “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too,” Laurent whispered. </p><p>*<br/>
When Damen had a goal, he achieved it. </p><p>Laurent knew that. The fact didn’t come as a surprise, so he really shouldn’t have been so surprised every time he was reminded of it.</p><p>He was sitting in his office, staring mind numbingly at his computer screen and contemplating slipping out for an hour when his intercom buzzed, his receptionist’s voice filling the small space.</p><p>
  <em>”Your three o’clock is here. Should I send him in?”</em>
</p><p>Laurent lifted his head from the heel of his hand, staring at the phone. He didn’t have any meetings set for that hour, but he was restless and bored and saw no harm in entertaining whatever this was. He pressed the button. “Send him in.”</p><p>When Damen walked in with his scrubs on and a self-satisfied smile on his face, Laurent contemplated throwing a stapler at his head.</p><p><em>What the fuck</em>, he wanted to say. But this was a work environment so instead he said, “What the hell.”</p><p>“Hello to you too,” Damen said. He dropped a brown paper bag on the desk and plopped down in one of the more comfortable seats, bringing an elbow to the backrest.</p><p>“You are not an underprivileged youth seeking legal help or advice,” Laurent said through slotted eyes.</p><p>“No,” Damen agreed. “I am a Doctor seeking legal help or advice.”</p><p>“You wish you were a doctor,” Laurent said. “How did you get in?”</p><p>Damen motioned to his scrubs as if that was the entire explanation, and Laurent thought about firing his receptionist. </p><p>“Well,” Laurent said apologetically. “I’m busy today.” </p><p>Damen slid a little forward in his chair, and then he propped his legs up on the edge of the desk and crossed them at the ankles. Laurent looked, speechless, and tried to understand when he had lost all semblance of control in his life.</p><p>“Wednesday is your slowest day of the week,” Damen said. “And you mentioned you were craving a burger, so.” He gestured to the bag.</p><p>Laurent looked at the bag. The bottom was dark with grease stains, and he could smell it from his unmoving spot behind his desk. He eyed how comfortable Damen looked. He was aware of how uncomfortable he felt.</p><p>Damen’s arms were crossed as well, hefted against his chest. He didn’t budge. Laurent had answered all of his texts with monosyllabic responses and provided very valid reasons as to why he couldn’t hang out. He hadn’t been to their café in what felt like weeks. He was busy. He was stressed. He was tired.</p><p>He was so tired.</p><p>Laurent reached for the bag.</p><p>They ate in silence, which was so starkly different for them that it was uncomfortable. It was a privilege to sit in the quiet with someone and enjoy that as much as the conversation, it spoke on a level of familiarity and chemistry that you didn’t have with just anyone, and the lack of <em>anything</em> now was so poignant that Laurent thought he might prefer to talk about the kiss.</p><p>Damen didn’t even try to fill the void, and that for some reason caused Laurent’s shoulders to coil in anxiety. It was like he had given up, but he couldn’t have. He was here, wasn’t he? Knowing Laurent’s schedule and knowing what he was craving. He snuck into his office under the pretense of some stranger because he wanted to spend time with Laurent, even if it was with this horribly awkward silence. He wore his work clothing and pretended to be a professional when he could have probably just flirted his way in because he knew it would make Laurent smile, even if he was too stubborn to let him see it.</p><p>Laurent crumbled the tin foil as he got up from his seat. He wiped his hands off, took a drink of water, and then sat in the seat right beside Damen.</p><p>The look that washed over Damen’s face was so hopeful that it made Laurent’s heart soften in his chest. He could have kissed him then. Damen shouldn’t look at anyone like that, especially not Laurent. He was too strong.</p><p>“I miss you,” Damen said.</p><p>That was Damen. Always out with it, right to the point. He could shut himself down when he wanted to, retaliate with silent anger when he’d been pushed enough, which only meant that he hadn’t. He wasn’t lost to Laurent yet. </p><p>“I’m right here,” Laurent said. He heard how cliché he sounded, but it was true. He was here, with Damen, because he wanted to be.</p><p>“No,” Damen said. “You’re not.”</p><p>He’d set his own wrappers down, and he was turned to Laurent in a way that their knees were pressing together, unable to separate unless he wanted to make it clear. He was gripping one of the armrests. </p><p>“I don’t know what you want from me,” Damen said. “You never – “ his lips pressed together briefly. “And then we finally kiss. But then you just cut me out, and I never know what you’re thinking. And I know it wasn’t – “ he cut himself off again before clearing his throat. Laurent’s mind was whirling in circles. </p><p>“We both know why I kissed you. But if it didn’t mean anything to you, then I don’t understand what’s the point in just –“</p><p>“What?” Laurent said.</p><p>Damen seemed confused to be cut off, like he hadn’t expected for anyone to dare try. Laurent watched him dial back from whatever he was about to say. “What?”</p><p>“What does that mean,” Laurent said. He sounded like he was at the edge. Something inside him was spinning, spinning until he felt dizzy with it. “That we both know why – why did you kiss me?”</p><p>Whatever Damen had been about to say stilled at the edge of his tongue. He leaned back, staring, until his eyebrows drew together. </p><p>“Laurent,” he said. “Come on.”</p><p>His phone rang behind him. Laurent didn’t know if it was his work phone or the personal line, he swiveled his back and picked it up off the base, slamming it down the second after. He considered disconnecting every line to the outside world.</p><p>When he turned back, Damen was looking at him similarly. He didn’t seem inclined to make himself more clear, and Laurent wanted to reach over and shake him.</p><p>“Don’t do that,” Laurent said. He stood up, needing to pace, but Damen only followed him up and made Laurent feel five times smaller. He looked up, defiant. “Don’t just say something like that and then not explain yourself. I was just as confused. I didn’t –“</p><p>“I’ve always wanted that,” Damen said, still towering over him. He sounded angry, but not at the situation, not the way Laurent was. It was explicit, directed right at Laurent. </p><p>“You,” he continued. “Since I met you. And I get why you never wanted me, so I don’t understand why you – “</p><p>“What the fuck does that mean?” Laurent was exasperated. He wondered if one of them would be allowed to finish a sentence. He wondered why nothing could just make <em>sense.</em></p><p>Damen, for his part, looked just as fed up. He tilted his face back and shook it from left to right, dropping his hands. “You’re unbelievable.” </p><p>“I am?” Laurent was most certainly at the edge. He was dangling off the precipice, and he knew at any second he would drop. He shoved his hands into Damen’s chest, daring him to look at him, to feel this. “You’re the one being so –“</p><p>Damen gripped at his wrists. “So what?”</p><p>“Just be straight with me,” Laurent demanded. </p><p>Damen let go of his wrists. He dropped them at Laurent’s sides. And then he took Laurent’s head in his hands, and kissed him.</p><p>And then he let go. It was with enough force that Laurent stumbled back a few steps, though he couldn’t be sure if that was from the way Damen handled him or if it was just Laurent’s dormant self-preservation, grappling behind this line. He couldn’t know. It didn’t matter, because Damen was kissing him again.</p><p>His arms were around Laurent’s middle. He was so much bigger than him, it made Laurent feel fragile as he held Laurent’s body close, pressing into the small of his back and holding them together. Their chests touched. Their thighs slotted together. Laurent’s arms were around Damen, winding around his neck, because they still weren’t close enough. </p><p>They ended up on the desk first. Damen set Laurent down on the center, Laurent’s legs going to wrap around his hips. When had Damen even lifted him? Damen pressed his hands to Laurent’s cheeks and kissed him in deep, slow kisses that made his stomach tighten and his cheeks flush. This was wrong. He shouldn’t. <em>They</em> shouldn’t. </p><p>But this was Damen. It was Damen who carried people because he didn’t know how to see anyone in pain. It was Damen who braved the world with a strength that Laurent admired, but was actually one of the most vulnerable people he knew. It was Damen who Laurent had wanted since he was sixteen. </p><p>Laurent made a wounded sound as they kissed. His heart was breaking, but that was the thing; Laurent’s heart had already been split in two. It had been for years.</p><p>Damen kissed his lips. He kissed the edge, and then the spot below, and then his hair was tangled in Laurent’s hands and he was kissing him full on the mouth again.</p><p>Laurent didn’t know how they got to the couch in the corner of the office. He was carried. They stumbled. It didn’t matter. He was on his back and Damen was on top of him, and all he knew was that he’d been wanting this for so long.</p><p>“You’re beautiful.” Damen kissed beneath his jaw. “You’re so beautiful. I’ve never known anyone like you.”</p><p>Laurent couldn’t think. He wanted Damen closer but Damen was on his knees, fumbling with Laurent’s belt in a clatter of metal and zipper. His pants were being pulled down. Damen’s hands were on him. Laurent was making a mistake but he couldn’t think about that, he couldn’t think of anything but how he needed to stay silent.</p><p>This had always been an exposing act for Laurent. More than getting fucked. More than being on the giving end. It was almost too intimate for him. He could hear how hard he was breathing.</p><p>When Damen pulled off him it was with wet lips and a look that made Laurent’s cheeks flame. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Laurent’s thigh, directed Laurent’s hands into his hair, and then Laurent was fucking Damen’s mouth. </p><p>Afterwards, Laurent didn’t know what to say.</p><p>He’d tried to reach for Damen, wanting that, but Damen had brushed his hand aside and shook his head, fitting himself in the spot beside Laurent. They stayed like that, just breathing, and Laurent knew that the panic would set in later. The guilt was boiling; it would overflow at any time, leaving him to drown. But for now all he could do was close his eyes and think about the way Damen made him feel. </p><p>It was Damen who spoke first. He rolled his head to face Laurent, not lifting it from the backrest, and waited for Laurent to look at him. “I have to get back.”</p><p>Laurent made himself stop looking at his lips. He nodded. </p><p>“I,” Damen pulled his own eyes up. He nodded as well. “Yeah.”</p><p>Laurent didn’t do much in the way of movement beyond getting himself situated, righting his clothing. He wasn’t going to walk Damen out. There was no parting hug or kiss on the cheek, there was nothing but a silent office and a burgeoning bud of shame. </p><p>Damen was standing by the door, a hand on the handle. His jacket was thrown over his shoulder. Laurent wanted him to leave because he wanted him to stay longer. </p><p>Damen nodded again, despite Laurent not having said anything. The door closed behind him, and Laurent was alone.</p><p>*</p><p>The panic set in. </p><p>It didn’t come the second Damen left. It didn’t come as Laurent got back behind his desk, back to the day. He collected all the papers that had gotten swept to the floor and felt nothing. He looked at the spot where Damen had laid Laurent down and sucked his cock, he heard the muffled sounds he had made against his own wrist and went back to work, unblinking. He operated through the day on autopilot, breezing through the motions with the sweet gift of detachment. </p><p>Things could break in an instant. All it could take was one drop for something to shatter, shards discarding so far that it would be impossible to find. They could also break slowly. All it took was one crack to start it all, slowly spreading out until it fell apart in your hands, unexpectedly, slicing at your skin and falling to your feet.</p><p>Laurent walked into their home that night, closing the door to a resounding silence, and felt his entire body begin to shut down.</p><p>Laurent was beginning to believe that his life would be an endless cycle of pain. He felt disgrace at just thinking that because it was all him, he was the catalyst of everything bad. He had used one man to get to another, and then decided that he wanted them both. He should have left then, but instead he cemented himself in their lives because he thought he would fall apart if he lost them. And when one wasn’t enough, he found a way to get the second. He had sworn that no one would tear them apart, and then proceeded to do it himself. </p><p>Laurent took himself to their bedroom and sat himself on their bed, and then he stared at his hands and willed some of the strength he used to have back to himself. He had never believed for anything to be black and white, he was the kind of person who lived in gray, but he knew that wasn’t enough to justify loving two men and not letting either go. You couldn’t control how you felt, but you could control how you acted on those feelings. Laurent had acted. And then he’d acted again. And he knew, like he’d known the first time, that it hadn’t been the last. </p><p>It was why he had hurt so much after they’d only kissed. He knew Nikandros, knew his capacity to love and fight for those that he loved. He would have forgiven Laurent for that. If it were just that, he would have found a way to move past it, to see past it. The reason that kiss had torn Laurent up so much was because he had known, even then, that that wouldn’t be the end of it.</p><p>Laurent rolled onto his side, pressing his face into Nikandros’ pillow. It smelled like him. He hugged it to himself, wishing Nikandros were there. He was in pain and he wanted Nikandros, and the fact of it was as convoluted as it was pitiful.  </p><p>Laurent only knew he’d been asleep when he opened his eyes to a dark room, a hand on his face. Nikandros was looking down at him, tracing his cheekbone with his thumb. </p><p>“You’re asleep early,” he said. “Long day?” </p><p>Laurent rolled onto his back. He was gripping the hand that was gentle on his face.</p><p>When Nikandros leaned down to kiss him, Laurent let him.</p><p>*</p><p>The easiest way to deal with a bad habit was to simply give yourself over to it. </p><p>Liars didn’t think people deserved dishonesty. Smokers didn’t convince themselves that it was healthy to be turning their lungs to ash. Thieves didn’t think everything belonged to them. In most cases, the people who did bad things knew they were bad. They either didn’t care, or didn’t know how to stop. When it was the first, hope was likely gone. When it was the second, you did the only thing you could: you gave in.</p><p>Auguste used to tell Laurent that he compartmentalized things. He hadn’t known how he’d felt about it, other than Auguste was right and there was no benefit in denying that. He’d told himself that it was a coping mechanism. It might be a form of lying to yourself, but if it got you through tough situations, then there was no harm in it. </p><p>The harm came in when you weren’t just lying to yourself. It was when you could look at your husband, the man you loved, and knew that he wasn’t the only one. </p><p>Laurent didn’t know how long it took for him to admit to himself that he was having an affair. Was it the first time he showed up at Damen’s apartment and said he wanted Damen to fuck him? Or maybe it was the first time he came home from Damen and let Nikandros have him as well. The starting point didn’t seem to matter. It was always the end.</p><p>Sometimes Laurent’s screen would be lit with a text from both Damen and Nikandros at the same time. He would look at both their names and realize that he didn’t even know which one he was supposed to answer first, and then he would toss his phone to the side and be unable to even look at either of them for the duration of the day.</p><p>Sometimes it was easy. Those were objectively the worst times, but they offered Laurent a short reprieve from the rockslide in his chest and those were the moments he cherished. To be with both, to enjoy both. To visualize a world where they could have this, and it could be normal. He remembered days in high school where people would whisper, murmurs in the hall that always got back around to the source. <em>I heard they each get a night with him. I heard he lets the other watch. I heard they just take turns.</em> It had thrilled Laurent then, and it thrilled him now.</p><p>Other times, it was hard. Most times were. Damen would pull Laurent’s shirt off and see the marks covering his body, and his face would twist in a way that made Laurent’s heart dip in guilt, reminding himself that he was toying with lives. There would be nights where Nikandros would come home and lift Laurent in his arms, so happy to see him, and Laurent would hug him back and cling to the familiar embrace of his arms and tell himself that this was it, that this was what he was giving up. </p><p>There was no one in the world that would ever deserve Nikandros. Laurent had always known this, deep down, and he knew it with certainty now. Certainly not Laurent, who twisted and broke things. Not Damen, who didn’t realize what he broke until it was too late. But Laurent was also a little twisted and broken inside. He needed Nikandros to keep him whole. He couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t. </p><p>*</p><p>That night, Laurent loved Nikandros more than he had in a long time.</p><p>It wasn’t that he hadn’t been feeling it and suddenly, <em>poof!</em> it was back. The feeling hadn’t reawakened. He just felt it so suddenly, so viscerally, that he thought it might grow wings and fly out of him.</p><p>There was nothing particular about it. They were at a fancy restaurant that had brick walls and warm lights, and the gold reflected off him and made his masculine beauty seem ethereal. They’d gone straight from work so he was still in his work clothes but his tie was discarded and his sleeves were rolled up, his jacket tossed to the side. He was laughing so much; Laurent couldn’t look at anything else if he wanted to. </p><p>They were talking about high school which always made Laurent feel warm inside. It was the nostalgia of it. The way they’d actually managed to find each other then.</p><p>“You were always acting so much more reckless than you were,” Nikandros said. He was ripping a sweet potato fry between his fingers, eating one half. They had contemplated between two types, so they ended up getting three. “It was endearing.”</p><p>“I wasn’t –“ Laurent was outraged. He hit the fry out of Nikandros’ hand. “What?”</p><p>“Do you remember that time you tried to make me steal gum?” Nikandros said. He was smiling the way he had then, before realizing Laurent was actually challenging him.</p><p>“Yes,” Laurent said. He did. They’d been dating for a few weeks. Laurent had been wearing Nikandros’ varsity jacket. They’d walked into a convenience store to buy drinks or something, opting for the first store they saw on the road. Laurent had known him enough at that point to know that he lived pretty by the book in most ways, and he also knew him enough to know that he desperately wanted to ruffle his feathers. “I was trying to make you adventurous.” </p><p><em>Steal something,</em> Laurent had said a few times, to which Nikandros had continuously shook his head and refused. So Laurent had crossed his arms and said, <em>I’ll suck your dick if you steal a pack of gum.</em></p><p><em>You’ll give me a blowjob for bubblegum?</em> Nikandros retorted, which was more crass than he’d yet to be in public and it gave Laurent a spark of thrill.</p><p><em>The gum is for you to do as you please,</em> Laurent said. <em>You don’t have to give it to me.</em></p><p><em>You’re too smart to sell yourself short like that,</em> Nikandros had told him, and it was one of the first times Laurent realized they could just have fun together.</p><p>“I was plenty adventurous,” Nikandros said. His lips were wine stained and Laurent wanted to kiss them. “You were trying to scare me.”</p><p>“I might have been testing the waters,” Laurent said. A waiter was topping off their glasses, a lanky, brown haired guy who kept making eyes at Nikandros. Nikandros watched as Laurent held his cup by his lips. “I couldn’t scare you too much. I still needed you to tutor me.”</p><p>Nikandros laughed again and Laurent’s heart soared. He was letting Laurent play footsie with him under the table which meant he was going to fuck him in the restaurant bathroom later. Laurent looked at the remaining food on the table and wondered what they were still doing there when his phone vibrated in his pocket, buzzing against his thigh. </p><p>He slid it out, still listening to Nikandros speak as he opened an incoming text. He looked down, and saw Damen’s name.</p><p>*</p><p>Nikandros had always considered things to be quite average. </p><p>It wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t view his life to be bad or less than, it was just – normal. Ordinary. And it was, in turn, how he viewed himself. He did well in school, especially the subjects he enjoyed. He excelled in sports. He was confident in the person that he was and the people he set his sights on, which usually ended on his terms or on a mutual agreement that there was nothing there. He wasn’t Damen, but no one really was. There was just a certain sense of self that came from money and the blissful ignorance of privilege, which Nikandros had never known. And so he figured out what he wanted, and he fought to make it his. And up until a certain point, those things tended to fit the mold of his life. </p><p>Laurent was anything but average. </p><p>He was a monsoon in Nikandros’ otherwise calm, still life. He flipped everything upside down without even meaning to. Sometimes while meaning to, but Nikandros soon came to learn that that was always with good intention. He just wanted to push people out of their comfort zone, because he knew that was where life began. He saw the tedium in Nikandros, saw beyond it, and showed him what it was like to really breathe for the first time. </p><p>Nikandros was all right on his own. But he was better with Laurent.</p><p>Sometimes you just met people who left a mark on you, one that you couldn’t remove if you tried. You spent a day in their company, felt the chemistry that flowed between you like static and felt things fall a little more into place. Damen had been the only other person who’d made Nikandros feel that, and he had been proof that those connections didn’t need to be romantic to be binding. </p><p>Damen was Nikandros’ brother. They were each other’s family when their own failed them. Nikandros couldn’t picture a world where they didn’t balance each other. When Laurent crashed into his life and found his place between them, Nikandros had felt a sense of security that he’d never known he needed. He valued both of them, and the fact that they valued each other meant more to Nikandros than he could express. </p><p>Nikandros knew it wouldn’t just be the three of them forever, and that was all right. He wanted that. He wanted Damen to find someone who lit up those dormant parts of him like Laurent did for Nikandros. He wanted Damen to find love like Nikandros had. He deserved it. </p><p>*</p><p>Damen liked to stay close after sex.</p><p>It confused Laurent. He knew Damen was warm, but he also knew his tendencies when it came to certain things. He knew that Damen couldn’t name half of the people he’d slept with, most of which because he hadn’t even known to begin with. Laurent wasn’t even certain that he’s seen him initiate none-intimate forms of touching with anyone aside for him or Nikandros, save for some of his family members. </p><p>Laurent was aware that it was nonsensical comparison to make. It did nothing to change his surprise the first time Damen kept an arm around him, the first time he took them off the couch or the countertop and pulled Laurent to his bed. Sometimes he would run his fingers against Laurent’s skin in silence, tracing the hollows of his collarbone and making a line down his heart, and Laurent would look away and close his eyes before he said something he couldn’t take back. </p><p>Laurent was living in a paradox. He couldn’t stand himself but he couldn’t help himself either; he didn’t know how to stop. Everyone had choices, and this was his. There was no way around it, no way to justify it, so he didn’t. </p><p>Laurent tried not to think about it. About the look on Nikandros’ face if he ever found out. About his beautiful, gentle eyes, the way the brown would dissolve in realization and push a dagger through Laurent’s chest. He tried not to think about the way those eyes would turn, land on his best friend, and realize that he’d been betrayed twice.</p><p>Laurent didn’t need to think about those things on his own, because it happened to him plenty. Unwanted, without his consent. Broken images would creep up on Laurent in the brightest parts of the day or the eerie quiet of the night, wrap around his neck like a snake and squeeze until he was choking on his regret. He could claw at his skin in those moments. He could rip himself apart. He could shrivel to dust and fly away in the breeze and it wouldn’t matter, because it would end people’s suffering, even if they didn’t know it. </p><p>Maybe then Laurent would finally know how to stop.</p><p>*</p><p>It was hard to remember what denying Damen was like.</p><p>It was hard in that he consumed you. When you were with Damen, it was all you could think of. Sometimes it felt impossible to imagine all those times of blocking him out, all of the different ways Laurent had denied himself. He was helpless to him. He was weak. He would walk into his arms or meet him in the back of a store and Laurent would think, <em>I’ve finally found you.</em></p><p>It was strange. To want something for so long and to finally get it, it was impossible not to fear that it might not be what you’d always been waiting for. Unwrapping a gift to see that it wasn’t as shiny as it was on the commercials, getting to try that ride that <em>everyone</em> was talking about. It was usually expected to finally get a taste and think, <em>that’s it</em>?</p><p>It was true that Damen wasn’t what Laurent had been building in his mind. He was more. </p><p>It was odd to Laurent that he could feel so much for something new when he was already so filled to the brim, overflowing from someone else. He didn’t think he had room for more, but Damen didn’t leave you much choice. He came in all at once, breaking down your defenses and leaving you to drown in it. You could sink, or you could swim.</p><p>That morning, Laurent swam. </p><p>He’d been running late and not in the headspace to drive, and when Damen texted and asked if he could give him a ride his heart had quickened a little too much for his liking. Laurent was excited to see him. It wasn’t in the way that he used to be, the way he was sure everyone who knew Damen looked forward to it. His hands felt clumsy as he grabbed at his keys. He could tell himself that it was just for the convenience of it, but what was the point? </p><p>They drove with the music on. Laurent couldn’t recall if it was something slow or fast, if it was an artist he even recognized. It was just background noise, blessedly loud enough to filter out his thoughts. It played as they wound through the streets, stopping for pedestrians and letting strangers pass. It played as they pulled up towards the office, and then further down to a secluded, shady area. It played as they kissed under the shade of trees and the gray of an early morning.</p><p>Laurent lost track of time. He knew he was probably late, but Damen’s lips were soft and his hands were gentle, running up Laurent’s back and making him tremor. He thought to move back, and ended up half on Damen’s lap.</p><p>“I have to go,” he eventually said. He spoke against Damen’s mouth, not yet ready to separate, and then he was kissing him again. </p><p>A few more minutes passed before his hands were on Damen’s chest, pushing him lightly. Damen tried to follow him with a sound of protest, his eyes coaxing, and Laurent made himself press his fingers against his lips with a shake of his head. “Go.”</p><p>Damen took Laurent’s fingers off his mouth, and turned them so he could kiss his palm. He did it again, a little lower, not looking away. Laurent closed his eyes. </p><p>“Can I see you later?” Damen asked.</p><p>Laurent’s lips made a straight line. He shook his head. He nodded. He didn’t know.</p><p>He knew. </p><p>*</p><p>Most times, Laurent sunk.</p><p>It happened when he had a good day with Nikandros. They would sit on their bed and talk or they’d shop for groceries and bicker over unnecessary junk food. They would jog in the park and both be so gross and sweaty when they got back that they didn’t even care to wait, they would just have each other like that, filthy and desperate. Then they’d go into the shower and clean themselves off, and then they would do it again on clean porcelain and steam-covered glass.  They would fall onto their bed, or look at each other across a line, or hug a pillow against their chest and smile at something the other would say, and Laurent would think, <em>what is wrong with you?</em></p><p>It happened when he had a bay day with Nikandros. When Laurent was tired and short of patience and Nikandros wasn’t finding his irritability charming. When something small happened, but a stressful day made something small seem like something huge. When a disagreement couldn’t be chalked up to a difference of opinion or a case of agree to disagree. Even then Laurent would look at him, he’d see the frustrated lines on his face and hear the livid rise of his voice and he would think, <em>Nikandros is always enough, so why isn’t this enough for you?</em></p><p>He never thought about what Damen was thinking. He couldn’t. While Laurent was worse, Damen was certainly not blameless. He didn’t know what he was telling himself to be able to handle things. He didn’t know how often Damen looked at Nikandros and felt the guilt of hurting his closest friend nearly take over him like a tide. Definitely not as often as Laurent. </p><p>There were times Laurent thought of Damen and wondered how he could want someone who was so able to mercilessly tear his friend’s heart to shreds. How he could be so drawn to someone so callously selfish. Then he would look in the mirror, and he’d hate himself just a little bit more. </p><p>There was a voice in Laurent’s mind that he kept quiet, kept locked down. It whispered terrible things to him about timing, about reality. He kept it locked away under a pile of justifications and pleas of yearning and pining, of years spent wanting in vain. He kept it wrapped and hidden with his darkest parts, his ugliest ones. And sometimes, on afternoons in Damen’s bed and evenings in his arms and mornings stolen, it worked.</p><p>But the voice was loud. It was always there, either booming at Laurent or thrumming in his chest, vibrating under the pressure. It told him what he always knew, even when he pretended like he didn’t.</p><p>This wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, this was going to catch up with him.  And when everything fell apart, he was going to loose everything.</p><p>*</p><p>It was hardest when they were all together.</p><p>That hadn’t changed. There was no reason for it to. They were each other’s best friends, it wasn’t a normal day if the three of them didn’t have some kind of interaction. They were still going to the movies and giving their individual ratings on the way back. They still spend weekends in shopping malls or outlets, even if that just meant walking around busy crowds and soaking in each other’s company.</p><p>Laurent wondered if he’d even be able to be in the same room as the two of them and feel like the air wasn’t getting sucked out. Damen couldn’t lie but he could avoid, especially with himself. Laurent could look at the two of them and immediately tell that something was off, that Damen wasn’t quite himself, but it either went over Nikandros’ head or it was simply the last thing he would ever guess. Why would he? </p><p>It somehow managed to never occur to Laurent that Damen wasn’t seeing anyone else. He’d never liked thinking about Damen with other people, and now it was just the farthest thing from his mind. It was, objectively, a pretty big oversight on his part. Damen going a week without someone new in his bed was serious cause for alarm. </p><p>It was brought to Laurent’s attention by Nikandros, which was its own kind of unamusing irony. They were on the couch in their living room, Laurent fitted into the curve of Nikandros’ arm. He had his head on his chest, and he was trying not to let it show how good it felt to be there. It didn’t matter either way, Damen wasn’t looking at them.</p><p>Nikandros’ hand was around him, the backs of his fingers near the edge of Laurent’s shirtsleeve. They were making circles, grazing the line of his bicep when he said, absently, “How’s Lykaios?”</p><p>“Who?” Damen said.</p><p><em>Fucking idiot</em>, Laurent thought.</p><p>He heard the dry amusement in Nikandros’ voice. “The nurse you brought over here,” he said, stroking Laurent’s arm. Laurent didn’t look away from the TV. “But I guess that answers that.”</p><p>“Oh,” Damen said, which Laurent understood, because what the fuck else was there to say in these kinds of situations. He wanted to bury himself. He wanted to bury himself in Nikandros’ arms, and that was just the pique of the problem. </p><p>“So,” Nikandros let his head hang back. He was getting comfortable, adjusting Laurent with him. “What was it this time?”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Damen asked. He was also looking at the TV. They were mutually fascinated by commercials for cleaning supplies. </p><p>“You know,” Nikandros said. “Too boring? Too much?” He brought his free hand up onto the backrest, leaning his neck on it. “Prettier blonde come by?”</p><p>Sometimes, Laurent felt fear. They could be in the privacy of their texts or in a place where he confidently knew they wouldn’t be found, and he still felt something in his chest like impending footsteps. The irrational dread could shake him.</p><p>Sometimes, he felt pain. Immeasurable pain, one that he thought could turn him inside out. In that moment, Laurent was certain they could both hear the sound of his heart crumbling.</p><p>Damen couldn’t look at Nikandros. He didn’t need to, Nikandros was only joking around, but even if it were a serious conversation that required a genuine response, he wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. To own up to your flaws required strength and a kind of honor, one that neither of them possessed. </p><p>“Just – “ Damen rubbed at the side of his jaw. Laurent could see it from the side of his eye. He’d kissed that jaw earlier, his fingers working at his belt buckle as he felt his stubble graze his lips. He was wretched. “I don’t know. You know. No spark.”</p><p>Nikandros made a sound of understanding. And then he adjusted again, and brought Laurent closer, and pressed his lips to the side of his head.</p><p>“Don’t worry, man,” he said. “When it’s right, you’ll just know.”</p><p>*</p><p>Damen had lived a privileged life. </p><p>There was no sense in denying it. His family had their problems but it was – whatever. Fine. Nothing he needed to think about. </p><p>His dad worked hard and taught Damen to do the same, and that landed them in a position where he could do whatever he wanted without having to worry about the finances of it. It was a nice pleasure to have, but his dad had also taught Damen about ambition. About making your own choices. And so he would do what he wanted, and get what he wanted, and he wouldn’t have to worry about much along the way.</p><p>You got what you put out in life. Charisma got you a long way; it was his brother who taught him that. Kastor wasn’t necessarily liked by many because he didn’t care to be, but when he had a goal he knew exactly how to achieve it. Damen utilized that strength, and high school was just the proof that aided to that theory. Girls liked him. Guys liked him. Damen liked everyone, and he got along with anyone. It was very rare that things didn’t go his way.</p><p>But then, there was Laurent.</p><p>Laurent wasn’t something Damen could put into words. Damen remembered seeing him in the hall, stuffing books into his locker with his blue eyes always so focused on something, never wandering at random. He thought he might be a little terrifying. He thought he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Once or twice he’d give a tasteful, witty remark in the few classes they shared and Damen would stifle a laugh, and think about what it would be like to have him. </p><p>But Laurent didn’t want Damen. People didn’t play games with him. If anyone had ever wanted Damen, they’d made it clear. It was simple. Laurent had never shown any interest in him. From what little he’d observed about him, he had never really shown much interest in anyone. Until Nikandros. </p><p>It was so ironic that it was almost funny. He remembered Nikandros offhandedly mentioning that he was tutoring someone in his trig class - <em>kind of intimidating, but also kind of meek</em> - and Damen had thought, <em>no fucking chance.</em> And then Laurent had walked through their door and walked right past Damen. Damen had stood there, dumbstruck, unsure why exactly he felt so confused.</p><p>It was a weird reality for Damen to live in. Foreign. But it was one he could deal with. If Damen couldn’t have Laurent then he wanted Nikandros to. Nikandros was the best person Damen knew. Certainly better than he was. There was nothing Damen wouldn’t do for him, nothing Nikandros didn’t want for himself that Damen in turn didn’t want for him either. If that was Laurent, then that was something Damen could deal with.</p><p>And he did. Mostly. The thing about Laurent was that it was impossible to be close to him and not want to be closer, in any sense of the word. Once you got to know him, you wanted to know everything. And so sometimes Damen slipped, forgetting himself, forgetting that Laurent wasn’t his. He’d stand a bit too close. His eyes would linger a bit too long. He’d think about him when he shouldn’t. Sometimes, definitely when he shouldn’t. </p><p>But it was all harmless, because it wouldn’t mean anything. It couldn’t. He belonged to Nikandros, and that was just fine. It was what he deserved. </p><p>*</p><p>There were certain things Nikandros always did when he was away on business. </p><p>He’ll cook Laurent his favorite meals and leave it in the freezer, usually to be ignored because eating home cooked dinners without Nikandros made him feel lonely. If he were leaving considerably early then he would leave some kind of a note, and if it were a normal hour then he’d wake Laurent up with his mouth on him. </p><p>Laurent was always texting him at random hours of the day, usually about mundane comments but sometimes with more fun things that he’d send at particularly inappropriate times. Nikandros wouldn’t always take the bait, being stern or telling Laurent that he’ll handle him when he got back. But sometimes he did, long minutes passing before Laurent’s phone would light back up and make him flush with want. He’s send Laurent pictures from his motel room, loose sweatpants pushed down his thighs with his hand wrapped around his cock. He’d tell Laurent what he would do to him if he were there. He’d tell him about how he missed his lips, the way he felt, the taste of him. </p><p>Laurent set his phone aside now. The most recent message he’d received was of the more tame ones, but it still made Laurent smile and his stomach warm with longing. He linked his fingers, mindlessly, and wondered what Nikandros was doing. </p><p>The couch cushions rustled as Damen turned his head. “This show is terrible.”</p><p>“It is,” Laurent agreed. </p><p>“Why are we watching it?” </p><p>“Because it was on,” Laurent said.</p><p>He didn’t need to look away from the moving figures to see that Damen was still watching him. He looked bored out of his mind. “We could always change it.”</p><p>Damen nodded. Then he shrugged. Then he turned his head back to the television, and they went back to their mind numbing reality TV.</p><p>The touch, when it came, wasn’t a surprise. Damen had always been moving Laurent’s hair out of his face - something Laurent had never allowed himself to think much about – so when he felt it smoothed behind his ear he didn’t do much more than blink. Damen liked his collarbones, he always had, so a brush against them barely registered. Laurent was comfortable. His head was fuzzy. Everything felt normal. </p><p>When Damen’s hand came to the inside of his thigh, it felt like a blow to his stomach. </p><p>He scrambled, pivoting his body and jolting like Damen’s fingers had pierced into his flesh. His phone thudded on the ground as he gripped the blanket. “What are you <em>doing</em>?”</p><p>He hadn’t meant to speak so loud. Damen was blinking, comically fast, and his hand was stilled between them at an unnatural angle. He looked down at Laurent’s phone, screen down. “I…”</p><p>“This is – “ a wave of <em>something</em> moved through Laurent’s stomach. Nausea, maybe.  “<em>Damen</em>.”</p><p>Damen was looking at Laurent like he was a little crazy. Probably because he was. Just last night he’d let Damen fuck him. He’d followed him into his car, into the backseat, and rode him slowly with the radio playing above them, drowning out their sounds. He then went home to his husband, curled up against his sleeping figure and waited until morning so he could have him too. </p><p>“Laurent,” Damen said. He leaned down to retrieve Laurent’s phone, though he set it down on the coffee table instead of handing it to him. He rarely held himself so awkwardly, it just wasn’t like Damen to be unsure. “Did I do something?”</p><p>“Are you kidding me,” Laurent said.</p><p>Damen lifted his hands, to which Laurent pushed himself up and took a few steps back, away from everything. “You’re not serious.”</p><p>He watched as Damen began to get annoyed. It started in his brows, drawing together as he tried not to loos patience. “Obviously,” he said. “I am.”</p><p>Laurent could shake him. He could shake the fucking world, himself included. To rattle until he was just a collection of pieces, rolling around like the shards of his morality. </p><p>“This is our home,” Laurent said, pointing inarticulately. “Our <em>home.</em> What are you thinking?” </p><p>Damen’s eyes followed the direction of his hand, like something would be waiting there. He didn’t say anything, which also made Laurent want to toss things. He gestured again, this time to the hallway.</p><p>“Did you plan to fuck me in our room?” Laurent asked. He heard his voice falter. He ignored it. “In our bed?”</p><p>“Stop,” Damen said. </p><p>“Or maybe,” Laurent went on, crazed. He was so worked up; he thought he might froth at the mouth. His heart was pounding so hard, and Damen lifting himself form the couch and striding toward him wasn’t helping. “Maybe in our shower. Was that your plan?” he asked. “Do you want to fuck me in the same spot your best friend went down on me this morning?”</p><p>“<em>Laurent</em>.”</p><p>Damen’s hands were on him, gripping his shoulders. Laurent felt it only after he heard his name, and he felt awareness of his shirtsleeves being tugged trickle in as his heart rate began to slow to something closer to normal. They were very close, Laurent hadn’t noticed them come face to face. He looked up at Damen, desperately, and saw the same look reflected down at him.</p><p>He crumbled into Damen’s arms.</p><p>*</p><p>For as long as Nikandros could remember, it was just him and Damen. </p><p>There were other people around of course. They had plenty of friends, plenty of partners that came and went. It was never a dull moment with them; neither Damen nor Nikandros were the kinds of people who liked being alone. But more often than not, anyone who entered their lives were just filler. Someone to share a drink with, to share a night with. They were all good, they were all fun, but they were also ever-changing. Damen and Nikandros were a permanent fixture in each other’s lives, the only one to still be around for the other after it had all been said and done. </p><p>Nikandros knew the shift had to be felt when Laurent entered the equation. They were so familiar to each other, so used to the other’s presence and mannerisms that it was hardly even felt anymore. Laurent was new, and different.  Aside from friends, he was probably one of the few people to see the inside of their apartment more than once. Definitely one of the few people to see his bed more than once. And if the fact of that wasn’t taken into consideration, he was simply not able to be overlooked. </p><p>Laurent was always around. If they weren’t out then they were at the apartment; Laurent lived in the dorms and most often just spent the night. He gradually grew more comfortable in Nikandros’ space, inserting parts of himself that lingered when he was gone. Sometimes Nikandros would turn over in the night to find him gone, and when he’d step out of his room he’d see him in the shadows, talking to Damen.</p><p>It was strange to see them together alone. Comforting. He’d wondered how Damen would acclimate to Laurent’s insertion between them, to the new place he took up in their lives. They got along, and complimented each other in a way that Nikandros thought they might. Damen never seemed to have any issue with the addition. He seemed to like it, to like Laurent. It was why Nikandros hadn’t been expecting it the first time Damen brought him up.</p><p>They were in the kitchen, the center of the apartment. Shot glasses still lined the counter, piles of empty pizza boxes stacked on the garbage from the previous night. Anyone who’d stayed over was gone, though there were still remnants of their guests scattered around, littering the couch and the floor. Laurent was the last to go, leaving just a few minutes ago after trudging out of Nikandros’ room in one of his own sweatshirts.</p><p>Nikandros stood at the counter in just his boxers, beating at a bowl of eggs. His head was throbbing, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard right when Damen said, “So. Laurent.”</p><p>When he turned he saw that Damen was watching him, standing behind the island between them. He had his hood up, his eyes bleary with hangover. He was waiting.</p><p>“What about him?”</p><p>Damen shrugged one shoulder. He leaned his weight forward, crossing his forearms. “I don’t know,” he said, shifting his arms again in a way that caused his sleeve to strain. “He’s just – here. A lot.”</p><p>Nikandros hesitated. He’d been whisking while he spoke but he slowed down. “Well…” he stilled completely. “Yeah.”</p><p>Damen nodded, while Nikandros remained confused. He didn’t know where this was coming from, or why the notion seemed suddenly important enough for Damen to mention. It certainly wasn’t the first time Laurent had come around.</p><p>Nikandros set the bowl down. If Damen had a problem, he wanted to know. Damen wasn’t always the best judge of character, it wasn’t his intuition that concerned Nikandros, it was the potential that he had an issue with something that made Nikandros this happy.</p><p>“Damen,” His head throbbed again. He needed water, and to sweat all this out. “What exactly are you saying?”</p><p>Damen pulled a face, one that did nothing to soothe Nikandros’ confusion. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye. “I don’t know, man,” he shrugged again. “I guess I just don’t really get what you are.”</p><p>It was a strange thing to say, especially given any lack of prior concern. “We’re together, Damen.”</p><p>“Obviously,” Damen raised his head to look at him. “I meant – I know you’re with him.” He scratched at the side of his arm. “Just him. But is he, you know. Like that? With you?”</p><p>Nikandros just stared at him. The faucet dripped, the air was thick and stale. He felt the need to open the windows, to stick his head out and breathe. </p><p>“Well,” he repeated, blinking aimlessly. “Yeah.”</p><p>But Nikandros heard how unsure he sounded, and he didn’t know what to do with that. He and Laurent hadn’t really discussed it, but Nikandros had never really discussed that with anyone. Laurent was all he ever saw, all he ever waned to see. The idea of having Laurent and bothering with anyone else was inane to him; the concept hadn’t even crossed his mind. He assumed, looking at it now, that that was probably optimistic on his part.</p><p>It was how he ended up on his phone, frowning at the screen and frustrated with himself for acting like an awkward middle schooler. </p><p><em><strong>hey,</strong></em> he typed, sent. He paused again. What the fuck was he supposed to say now, <em>just checking, are we boyfriends?</em> It felt stupid to do this over text, stupid to do it at all, but he had things he needed to get to and didn’t have the time to go see Laurent, and he wasn’t about to spend the whole day with this ridiculous anxiety festering over something that was probably pointless to begin with.</p><p>He started to type just as Laurent did, but only a second passed before Laurent’s dots went away. Not in the mood for games, Nikandros pressed his teeth into his lip and just began to type. <em><strong>i know this is random</strong></em>  he wrote, not allowing himself to stop and overthink. <em><strong>but i just wanted to say i like you. i really like you.</strong></em></p><p>He stilled with his thumbs over the keypad, staring at the words. And then, impulsively, <em><strong>only you.</strong></em></p><p>Nikandros waited, hating how stiffly he stood and how his eyes wouldn’t move from the screen. They had something, he knew they did. Laurent was different with Nikandros. The night before he’d pulled Nikandros into a corner, no less out of sight but still with some obscure version of privacy. He was drunk and light footed, and Nikandros’ heart had swelled when all he’d done was pull him in and laugh against this lips</p><p>His phone vibrated in his hand. Nikandros unlocked it, swiped right, and then read the words with a similar feeling in his chest. <em><strong>I only like you, too.</strong></em></p><p>*	</p><p>Laurent ran his fingers down the side of Damen’s face, his heart swelling in his chest.</p><p>He liked Damen like this, in bed and after sex. He was just as charming but it was a different version of it, his charisma turning languid and gently enticing. He would hold Laurent close and kiss him differently; there was no longer an end goal to it and they could just enjoy this, his hand drifting up the back of Laurent’s thigh as the blanket slipped off them.</p><p>He’d fucked Laurent slow that night. It was at Laurent’s bidding; he’d wrapped a leg around Damen and told him to make it last. He hadn’t wanted to rush, so he closed his eyes and felt every second of it, and pretended with himself that this was a world where they could also take their time.</p><p>The room was dark. The right side was entirely made up of windows; the city lights glowed behind Damen and made him look like he was something out of a portrait, the moon hanging above him. He was still as Laurent traced his eyebrow, the way his cheekbone arched and lifted with his gentle smile. The shell of his ear was soft. </p><p>When Laurent pushed himself up it was on his knees so he could still look at Damen, the sheet bunching under his legs. He ran a palm up his hip, nearing his scar. </p><p>“You’re not gonna ask where I got that?” Damen asked.</p><p>“I’ve seen this before,” Laurent said. It wasn’t in any particularly scandalous spot; he’d seen it hundreds of times, before. </p><p>Damen’s arms were crossed behind his head, watching Laurent touch him. His demeanor was as comfortable as it was arrogant. </p><p>“Maybe it has a story,” Damen went on. His grin was tilted and playful, it was the same one he wore when they used to get into trouble together. “One I only tell certain people.”</p><p>“Maybe I don’t care,” Laurent said, blandly. </p><p>Damen laughed because he knew Laurent was joking, just like Laurent knew there was nothing about Damen that he didn’t already know. He felt like he’d spent half of his life watching him, learning him in silence. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe he actually knew more than one person this wholly, this completely. </p><p>Most of the time, he didn’t think about that at all.</p><p>*</p><p>Something Laurent had learned long ago was to not anticipate things. </p><p>It was relatively pointless. So much could happen that you might never expect, to dwell or try and predict would likely do more harm than good. The upside to this was that good things came unexpectedly, sweeping you off your feet with unforeseen excitement. The downside was that similarly, that sentiment could feel like the ground was crumbling underneath you.</p><p>Laurent wouldn’t have seen it coming that day. It was the perfect kind of morning, the lazy ones that they didn’t always have the luxury of sharing. It started in the shower. The glass door sliding open, the sound of Laurent being joined the only indication he needed to know that Nikandros was his for the day. Arms slid around Laurent’s wet body, a palm on his abdomen as he was walked forward, pressed into the cold wall with a smile curling on his lips.</p><p>The water soaked their hair as they kissed, Nikandros’ hands sure on Laurent’s body. It was an effort for him to stay upright; it took a slippery grasp around Nikandros’ neck for Laurent not to fold into it. Water trickled down his parted mouth, breathless, and Laurent’s palm hit the wall in a desperate attempt for stability when Nikandros went down on his knees.</p><p>They washed each other after, a domesticity that wasn’t new but still made Laurent feel giddily, profoundly happy. He ran soap across Nikandros’ shoulders, down his chest, and when Nikandros grinned imply he couldn’t stop himself from rising up on his toes and kissing him again. </p><p>“I thought you didn’t want to,” Laurent said. He sucked the liquid off his lower lip, pressed their chests together. </p><p>Nikandros gave light slap on the back of his thigh before taking Laurent by the upper arms, turning him around. </p><p>“That’s not what I said.” Laurent closed his eyes as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair, tilting his head back. “I said I want to in our bed.”</p><p>The water was warm; steam curled up around them and made the rest of the world feel very far away. The fingers on the side of his neck were gentle. </p><p>Laurent covered them with his own, keeping the hold as he turned and faced Nikandros. His hair was slicked off of his face, the tips of his lashes wet. Laurent’s heart flipped over in his chest. </p><p>“All this time together,” Laurent said, smoothing his brow in place with his thumb. “And you still can’t go twice?”</p><p> The swat at his hand was playful, like the look Laurent gave him. Nikandros reached around Laurent and shut the water off, nodding to the side. “Out.”  </p><p>The shower doors were slick with condensation. Laurent could feel the moisture beneath his fingers as he slide them open, marks sure to be left behind on the glass. The window was open, a breeze rolled in and chilled Laurent’s skin as he walked up to the counter where his clothing was left. He could feel the water rolling down his legs. </p><p>“You just,” Laurent turned to see Nikandros run one hand down his face, the other waving around indistinctly in a circle. “All over the floor. Why.”</p><p>Laurent laughed; he couldn’t help it. He wanted to follow Nikandros back into the shower and have him until they were both filthy again. He lifted his hands in apology. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I doubt that,” Nikandros said, and Laurent laughed again. “Stand on a fucking towel.”</p><p>After, when Laurent was sufficiently dry and staring up at Nikandros with big eyes, Nikandros took the clothing out of his hands and said, “Get on the bed.”</p><p>After, Laurent was too tired and worn out to roll over onto his back. He just lay there, blissful, and let out only a small sound of protest when Nikandros rolled him over himself. </p><p>“All this time together,” Nikandros spoke with his chin on his fist, looking down at Laurent. “And you still can’t take more than that?”</p><p>Laurent thought about retorting. But he liked when Nikandros was cheeky, and he was too satisfied to bother, so he nodded his head and shrugged and tried to ignore his own flush when Nikandros laughed at his inarticulacy. </p><p>Still smiling, Nikandros brushed Laurent’s cheek with his knuckle. It was slow, reverent, and Laurent had to fight the inclination to hide his face. “I like you like this.”</p><p>“Like what?” It had been years together and Laurent still got shy around him at times. </p><p>“Docile.” Laurent raised a brow, but he didn’t think he managed to make such an impression. “Relaxed.” Nikandros dipped his head, kissed the spot between them. “Happy.”</p><p>The beat of Laurent’s heart was a vocal, painful thing. He loved Nikandros so much it consumed him. There was nothing to say so he opened his arms, welcomed the press of Nikandros’ head against his chest and the curl of his hair between his fingers.</p><p>It was quiet for a long time. Their breaths mingled, the trees swayed outside and made the room feel hazy like a reverie. Laurent wanted to stay here, like this, to keep everything that could hurt them out and far away. He wanted Nikandros pressed against his heart for the rest of his life. </p><p>He wasn’t expecting it when Nikandros spoke. They had both drifted into a kind of dreamlike silence; Laurent felt seconds away from sleep, a part of his mind already clouded and unfocused. When Nikandros stirred, he didn’t think anything of it.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking.” His lips were close to Laurent’s collarbone; the breath of air tickled him and made him shift. “About what we spoke about.” </p><p>“Hm.”</p><p>“Last year.” Nikandros’ foot nudged against his. Neither of them was dressed, the press of his skin was warm against Laurent. He made another mindless sound, molding into it.</p><p>“Laurent.”</p><p>Laurent opened one eye. “That’s vague.” </p><p>“You know what I’m referring to.”</p><p>He didn’t, though much of that could be accredited to the fact that all of Laurent wasn’t entirely there yet. He opened both eyes and rolled onto his back, just as Nikandros sat up. </p><p>Brows furrowed, Laurent placed his arms at his sides and pushed himself up, following his position. He pulled at the sheets with him, splaying them on his legs.</p><p>“It’s almost our anniversary,” Nikandros said. He had a pillow against his stomach, his arm curling around the front. It was how he sat when he felt vulnerable. “And we’d both said we wanted to wait until we were ready, until we thought it was time.”</p><p>He spoke like Laurent understood, like Laurent was purposefully deflecting and he was trying to get him on board. Maybe Laurent was, some subconscious part of his brain that was afraid, unsure, repressing. He looked at Nikandros’ stance, at the way he seemed to be waiting for Laurent to catch up. Laurent felt, somehow, like something was slipping away.</p><p>Laurent said, “You want to adopt?” </p><p>Nikandros’ eyes were very warm. “I’m ready,” he said, with that same confidence that always inspired Laurent. “I am. I want to start a family with you.”</p><p>It felt like there was a filter in front of Laurent, one that the words weren’t managing to penetrate. The language was foreign, the conversation wasn’t one Laurent could make sense of. He was silent, he could <em>hear</em> that he was silent, but a response wouldn’t come.</p><p>He saw as Nikandros took notice of this. It was in his mouth, in the hopeful curve that slowly stilled, fading away to nothing. Laurent felt trapped. He felt like he was stuck behind a glass wall, banging and shouting but unable to be heard, and the man on the other side was himself. </p><p>Nikandros chin dipped, just a little. “You’re not ready.”</p><p>“I don’t –“ Laurent stopped. It wasn’t like him to speak when he didn’t know what he wanted to say, so he simply clamped his mouth shut and tried to keep his mind centered. </p><p>Nikandros frowned now, looking down. When he spoke, his voice had changed. “You don’t want to anymore?”</p><p>It felt like falling from a cliff, a bottomless drop that never seemed to end. It wasn’t that, of course it wasn’t that. Nikandros was selfless and caring, with a bigger heart than anyone Laurent knew. To raise kids with him was a dream, one that nobody could possibly deserve. Certainly not Laurent, who deserved him less every day.</p><p>“I do,” Laurent said, because he needed to speak, because he needed Nikandros to understand, even if he never would. He leaned forward and took his hand, held it harder than he might have ever had. “Of course I do, you have to know that.”</p><p>Nikandros’ fingers laced through his own. “So what’s the problem? Is it just – the timing? Because we can…” he ran his free hand through his hair, another nervous habit. He looked around the room with a large shrug. “Figure it out, I don’t know. It doesn’t have to be now, but I want us to talk about it. I want to know if we’re on the same page, at least.”</p><p>“Okay,” Laurent nodded, erratic and afraid, like if he didn’t respond fast enough he might lose Nikandros on the spot. “That’s fair. I – Yes. We can.”</p><p>“All right.” Fingers squeezed around his and Laurent felt transparent with shame. “What are you thinking now?”</p><p>Laurent closed his eyes. He didn’t know what his tells were, he supposed that was for Nikandros to be aware of, but he knew that he felt vulnerable, too. “That I love you.”</p><p>A press of lips against his knuckles, quick and soft. “What else?”</p><p>“Sometimes, I still can’t believe you love me too.”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous.” His thumb traced the place his mouth had just been. “What else?”</p><p>His throat felt tight, like he’d swallowed down all their dreams. He spoke around it, telling the truth even if he had no place to. “I want a family with you.” </p><p>He forced himself to open his eyes. It felt like a difficult task, though not as difficult as it was to see the look on Nikandros’ face. He was smiling, beaming, looking like someone who would soon have everything he wanted.</p><p>“Yeah?” He tugged on Laurent’s hand, once, all he needed for Laurent to be pulled up on his knees so they were even closer, nearly touching. “You do?”</p><p>Laurent’s lips were pressed together. He nodded, lowered his gaze when Nikandros ran a palm down the side of his face, cupping his cheek. He did. He wanted that, so badly. He wanted a life where it was all he wanted, where he wouldn’t feel like it would be leaving part of his family behind. </p><p>*</p><p>It wasn’t long before Laurent began to implode. </p><p>It started happening in fragments. The signs all varied, differing in magnitude and the way in which they were presented. Some were obvious, some were subtle enough that had things not been hanging over his head like a cloud he may have missed it. But they all amounted to the same thing: an end was coming.  </p><p>He couldn’t keep focus at the office. It was entirely unlike him, the ability to shut his problems out by throwing himself into work had always been his go to. He nearly dropped his phone every time it rang, like it was notifying him with an alert that he was a selfish, manipulative man. Anxiety stole his appetite. Self-loathing stole his motivation.</p><p>Laurent couldn’t get aroused one night. Nikandros had kissed his lips, kissed the line of his hip, and then taken him in his mouth while Laurent lay back with his eyes closed and willed his mind to stop running. </p><p>He didn’t know how long that went on for; Laurent hands were on his face when Nikandros eventually pulled off, his hands still on his hips, Laurent’s body still drawn and unresponsive. He’d misunderstood Laurent’s reaction for embarrassment, squeezing his wrist and telling him it was fine, that it wasn’t a big deal at all. He’d then coaxed Laurent up and moved behind him, brushing his hair aside before rubbing his shoulders and asking him how work was going.</p><p>It was worse with Damen. His time with Damen was isolated. Special. It was like it was as hard won as it was wrong, something he’d finally gotten and would enjoy despite the way it made him feel after. But when Damen touched him he had to tell himself to let it happen, despite melting into it like he couldn’t help it, like he always had. Damen kissed the back of his neck and Laurent felt Nikandros, thought of Nikandros. He’d turned in Damen’s arms and pulled him in, wanting to be present, wanting it not to feel like a goodbye. </p><p>It was easier to pretend with Nikandros, because sometimes it felt like all Laurent ever did was pretend. With himself, with the world, even as a child. But with Damen he was being his most real, authentic self. And the most authentic thing about Laurent those days was that he was falling apart. Everything was falling apart.</p><p>*</p><p>It was beautiful out that afternoon. The sky was a crisp blue, only broken by streaks of sunlight. It was a perfect day. It felt like a slap to the face. </p><p>Laurent wasn’t sure when the decision had been made. The last time Nikandros told Laurent he loved him, Laurent had looked back into his eyes and known that it was dated. When Damen had kissed him for the night, Laurent had grabbed his face and held him a little closer, a little longer. </p><p>When he woke up that morning, there was a pressure in his stomach that was as heavy as finality. Laurent had been running for so long. He’d thought he was running towards something, a potential future, but he’d only ever been running away. It was time to stop, and to face everything he’d left behind in his path.</p><p>A knock came from the bedroom door, two quick raps that Laurent could distinguish just from the sound. He looked up from his phone, long ago locked, and saw Damen.</p><p>“Hey.” He was in his hospital scrubs with a sweatshirt thrown on top. He looked confused, a little concerned, half leaned forward like he didn’t see the point in coming in. It did nothing to outweigh how happy he was to see Laurent. “Sorry it took so long. Traffic.”</p><p>Laurent didn’t speak, so Damen continued to. “Why are we meeting here?” He looked Laurent over again, at his casual attire and back up to his face. He didn’t look at the bed. “You didn’t go to work?”</p><p>Laurent put his phone down. He shook his head. </p><p>Damen’s mouth opened, closed. He pointed behind him. “Do you want to…“</p><p>He trailed off, lowering his hand. Laurent watched his weight shift from one foot to another.</p><p>Slowly, Damen leaned off the door. His greeting smile was gone. Laurent could see the hesitation in his eyes.</p><p>Laurent didn’t register the decision to stand up. But one second he was seated on the bed, his entire body heavy like led and the next he was up and inches away from Damen. Or rather, Damen was inches away from him. He’d come forward like Laurent was about to bolt, and maybe he was. He had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea how to do this.</p><p>Damen said, softly, “Sweetheart?” </p><p>His voice was low and gentle, like he was afraid he was going to startle a reaction out of Laurent. He knew what he looked like: catatonic, vacant. He could see it on Damen’s face, the way he looked as if he were waiting for Laurent to come awake. He was holding Laurent by the arms.</p><p>“Damen,” Laurent said.</p><p>It was a whisper at most. Laurent would have thought Damen hadn’t heard him if it weren’t for his brows, drawing together slightly. They had always been one of his most expressive features. Laurent had teased him about that, once.</p><p>“Damen,” Laurent said again, louder. He knew what he needed to do, how he needed to be. Cold, reserved. To detach himself, to think of his goal and not his emotion. It was the only way Laurent could do this. He just – couldn’t. Not anymore.</p><p>Laurent didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t look away. He didn’t allow himself that small reprieve from pain as he said, clearly, “We need to stop.”</p><p>There was nothing, at first. Just Damen’s still, beautiful face, staring back at him. “Stop?”</p><p>Laurent raised his hands to Damen’s, intending to pull them off. He only held on tighter. </p><p>“We can’t anymore.” His voice came out weak, scratching through his throat. He didn’t think to clear it. “I can’t anymore.”</p><p>“Can’t –“ Laurent gripped on harder when his hand twitched. “What do you – Laurent?”</p><p>“You know what I mean.”</p><p>Understanding played out on Damen’s face in stages. His features shifted, confusion slowly giving way to realization, and then that terrible second where that implication dawned on him. This time, Laurent didn’t fight to hold on.</p><p>“No,” Damen said, like that was all it took. He had taken two steps back, three. There was distance between them, when all his expression said was that he wanted to pull Laurent closer. “Laurent. Don’t.”</p><p>“Come on,” Laurent tried, knowing the attempt was as empty as it was futile. There was no room for nonchalance when your heart was breaking. He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. <em>Help me,</em> he wanted to say, desperate for Damen to hear his plea. <em>Don’t make me do this alone.</em></p><p>But either Damen didn’t understand him, or he simply didn’t care. He was shaking his own head, but he was erratic where Laurent was weak. He grabbed the back of his neck, dropped his hands to his side and then took another step back.</p><p>“Don’t,” he said again, in a voice that made Laurent want to take everything back, every moment that led them all there. “Don’t do this, Laurent.” </p><p>It made Laurent want to shout. It made him want to go back in time to when he was still young, still innocent, and stop himself before he burned everything down. He grabbed his own face, breathed into his skin, and told himself to be strong. For once in his life, to be true.</p><p>“Damen,” he said, with a gentleness that he wasn’t expecting to show. It made Damen wince, a shot through Laurent’s chest. ”Please,” he whispered. “We have to.”</p><p>“We don’t,” Damen said, begged. It wasn’t a word that Laurent would throw around lightly, not with someone like Damen. His sleeves were rolled up; he pulled at the edge as he paced away from Laurent. “We can – “ A hand gesture, a wave between them. “This. Just this.”</p><p>Laurent ignored it. There as an intimacy to that word that he didn’t merit, certainly not after he’d created it in two different places. 	</p><p>“No,” Laurent said, thinking of Nikandros. It was his private rule, one he’d diligently stuck by. To not think of one when he was with the other, not if he could help it. But he thought of him now. Nikandros was Laurent’s heart, even if it felt like a piece of it would always be missing. They both made up parts of him, but Nikandros was more. He was the better man, the good man. He’d never deserved anything either of them had done to him, and Laurent couldn’t pretend anymore.</p><p>“No,” he repeated, more firm than he thought he could handle. He kept himself up, willing Damen to do the same. “It’s wrong. Everything we’ve done is wrong. And it needs to stop.”</p><p>“I <em>know</em> it’s wrong –“</p><p>“It should have never started,” Laurent said, desolate inside with the truth. It was him, it was always him. He’d known, from the start, that his time with Damen was limited. And he felt lucky that he got any of him at all, even if he would always regret it. It didn’t mean he could have ever chosen anything else.</p><p>Laurent said, “I should have never come into your life.”</p><p>“You’ve changed my life.” Damen looked at him with so much conviction that Laurent wanted to believe him. “You’re everything to me. I don’t remember how not to love you.”</p><p>Laurent had told himself that he wouldn’t think the after. The repercussions of what he had to do, the aftershocks. He couldn’t, he knew the idea would be too much for him to survive and he would shut down before it even began. He thought now that that precaution didn’t actually matter, because already he was broken.</p><p>The carpet in their room was light. There were marks from their shoes, a sweater crumpled in the corner over a stack of magazines. Laurent pulled his eyes away from it, dragged them up and let Damen see what he wouldn’t tell him. </p><p>He knew what Damen wanted. He wasn’t a fool, and neither was Laurent. He saw the fear and the hurt twist behind his eyes, like the knot Laurent could feel in the pit of his stomach. </p><p>If Laurent didn’t know Damen better, he would fear the way Damen transformed before him. That imposing body rising, the fractures that swam behind his eyes like shards. But Laurent knew him, and he knew that what he was seeing wasn’t unmasked hatred, but masked sorrow. </p><p>“I know,” Damen said. “I <em>know.</em> He’s my best friend, you think it doesn’t hurt to look him in the eye? I hate it,” Damen said, and the way his voice wavered made Laurent’s hart ache. “I hate that it’s him. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”</p><p>“Think about yourself.” A bird landed on the windowsill behind Damen, singing into the room. Laurent watched it flap its wings, waiting to fly free. Laurent knew what they had, but he couldn’t understand how it was enough for Damen. To hide what he had, to give up the liberty of loving in plain sight. “You deserve to have more than half of someone.”</p><p>“I’ll decide what’s right for me.” </p><p>Laurent drew in a breath. They were going in circles. As teenagers who’d stepped around each other, to adults who’d stepped around all of their problems like that would make them disappear. They were always going in circles. But not anymore. “Damen –“</p><p>“Please.” It was heavy with defeat, but Damen was always resilient. No matter what got in his way. “Don’t make me go back to just dreaming of you.”</p><p>Crossing the space that separated them was unintentional, but as inevitable as everything else. He was operating without thinking. It was the same gravitational pull that always brought them together, even when something just as strong was pulling them apart. Damen’s face was in his hands. Laurent felt the hard line of his jaw against his palms, the press of Damen’s body against his, and thought of what he was giving up. </p><p>Laurent swept his thumb up Damen’s cheek, smiling softly. He wondered if it looked as sad as it felt. “Maybe in another life –“</p><p>“In another life, what?”</p><p>It was an indescribable thing, to feel as if your world just came crashing down around you. There wasn’t really a way to put it into words. All that Laurent could say, all he could offer to attempt to put it into perspective was that it was something you never truly healed from.</p><p>He turned so fast he thought he might lose his balance. All around him was white noise, static in his ears and blurriness in his eyes, one that only snapped into focus when he saw Nikandros.</p><p>Laurent thought that never seeing either of them again might be less painful than ever having to see that look on Nikandros’ face again.</p><p>“Nikandros,” Laurent said. </p><p>He was almost certain he spoke, but nothing in Nikandros’ expression registered that he heard him. He wore his work clothes, his button down pressed and his dark tie fastened. His demeanor was so put together that he could have been a mirage.</p><p>Laurent stepped forward, towards him, and when Nikandros stepped back it felt like being struck.</p><p>Laurent stopped, so abrupt that he worried his heart would jam in his throat from the momentum. He’d never been in a room so silent; he was sure that Nikandros could hear his thoughts. His desperate, terrified thoughts.</p><p>It was Nikandros who finally broke it, though Laurent somehow still didn’t feel ready. There was a tension in the air that was suffocating, but he spoke as clear as ever when he said, pointedly, “tell me.”</p><p>His cheeks were stained red, something that happened when his reactions were beyond his control. He was looking at them both. Laurent had no idea what Damen was doing, what Nikandros was seeing when he looked at him. His expression was the same, not altering or suggesting anything different as it shifted between the two of them. Two perpetrators, two people he’d trusted who had scarred him right before them.</p><p>Laurent came forward again. He had to. “Nikandros –“</p><p>“I <em>said,</em>” he wasn’t like Laurent, reverting to controlled calmness when he was emotional. He was too sincere for that. “Tell me.”</p><p>All Laurent could think was that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was meant to have time, to tell Nikandros in his own way. He knew, realistically, that it was a foolish want. You couldn’t control the way someone’s heart broke, no matter how much you prepared for it.</p><p>“All right,” Laurent said, trying to be amenable, though he didn’t know what he was agreeing to. Behind him, the floorboard creaked. “We – all right.”</p><p>Nikandros stared back at him. His eyes were void of acknowledgment, vacant as he waited for something. A continuation, maybe. An explanation. Laurent waited as well, motionless like he was balanced on a tightrope. It remained that way, quiet, undisturbed. And then Nikandros smiled.</p><p>It was small, nearly unnoticeable. It cut Laurent straight across the throat.</p><p>Nikandros said, softly, “We.”</p><p>He nodded when he said it, like he understood. It held something reminiscent to resignation, and the sight of it filled Laurent with dread. Nikandros hung his head, nodded at the floor, and in a similar voice said, “How could you.”</p><p>He was speaking to both of them. The best friend and the lover. Laurent didn’t know which one of them was worse in his eyes. He supposed, at this point, that it didn’t matter.</p><p>It was then that Damen finally decided to speak. Laurent could feel him approach before he heard it, though he didn’t chance a look when he took Laurent’s side, standing before Nikandros. When he cleared his throat, Laurent braced himself. “Nikandros…”</p><p>It was the only thing Damen managed to say, because Nikandros punched him.  </p><p>It came quicker than Laurent was expecting, and Laurent could tell from the way he moved that Nikandros had put the force of his entire weight behind it. One moment he was looking down, his shoulders sagged and pointed to the floor, and the next he was taking his own step towards them and driving his fist forward. </p><p>He hit Damen with a closed fist, knuckles swinging into the side of his face. It was the loudest impression in the room thus far, and it was heavy enough to throw Damen back and stumble on his feet. Laurent jolted, his own eyes squeezing shut.</p><p>It was those few seconds, that harsh breathing on either side of Laurent that kept him centered. He didn’t know where to look; he didn’t know what to do with himself.</p><p>When Damen righted himself, it was with a palm cradling his jaw that was sure to bruise. His own chest was moving, his hair tousled into disarray, but he nodded his head and rubbed at his cheek, lowering his eyes.</p><p>Nikandros, unlike most men in that position, didn’t conceal that the hit had hurt him as well. He shook his hand out, his own eyes steady and forward, looking like he was waiting for another go around. Laurent didn’t know which one of them to turn to, and the idea of that made him feel sick.</p><p>It was Nikandros who spoke again. </p><p>“I could ask you why you would do this.” It was impossible to tell who he was speaking to, at first. His fingers were squeezed between his other hand, held by his chest. “You had everything, you didn’t have to take this too.”</p><p>His gaze was heavy on Laurent. Laurent thought, <em>He’s never looked at me like this before.</em></p><p>“But you were never my possession,” he said, after a moment where they just looked at each other. “You were just the love of my life.”</p><p>It was in his voice, the way he said it that hurt so much it felt like dying. </p><p>He turned his head, fixing his stare on Damen. “But you were my brother.”</p><p>And for as long as Laurent had known Damen, he’d never known <em>him</em> to look like that. Regretful. Ashamed. It was like oil in water.</p><p>Damen moved towards him, and this time Nikandros didn’t budge. He let it happen, dong nothing until they were facing each other. To Laurent, the two of them together had always been a pipe dream. He looked at them now and saw nothing but a nightmare. </p><p>“Nikandros,” Damen said, and Laurent felt the first tear. He said, weightily, “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Nikandros held his ground, held his eye. They were so powerful together, so <em>much,</em> that even now Laurent couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t picture a universe where they didn’t stand together.</p><p>Nikandros said, jus as weighted, “You’re not.”</p><p>It was all Laurent needed to know he would never recover from this. To lose them both in one day, in one lifetime. Sometimes he thought that he wouldn’t be able to breathe without them, on either side of him for every step. To imagine a world without Nikandros and Damen was to imagine one without light, without gravity. Laurent thought he might float away into nothing, that he would just disappear without their love keeping him whole. He couldn’t think about that, not if he wanted to make it through just this. And yet he could feel his pain taking over.</p><p>“Nikandros,” he said, and Nikandros’ shirt was in his hands and his face was in his, desperate. He wanted to fall to his knees, to clutch at Nikandros and beg. For what, he didn’t know. Forgiveness shouldn’t exist for someone like him. “Nikandros, please.”</p><p>Nikandros shut his eyes. He shook his head, shook his arms, trying to remove himself from Laurent. Laurent didn’t let him. “No,” he said, and Laurent felt his heart tear again. He clung to Nikandros, not sure if he could keep himself up without him. “Laurent. No.”</p><p>“Please,” Laurent said again, his voice wet with desperation, and he couldn’t muster the courage to look away when Damen spoke up.</p><p>“I’ll go,” he said, and he sounded very far away despite being right there, just by them. “I’ll leave, and we can -“ </p><p>He stopped talking, and for that Laurent was grateful. There was no end to that sentence, and he didn’t think he could bear to hear whatever lie came out of his mouth. There was no more <em>we</em>, how could there be? Whatever the three of them were to each other was destroyed, it had to be. It had been traded in for a sin, and it would forever be on Laurent and Damen to decide if it was worth it.</p><p>He thought, as the door closed, that that would be the thing that binded the two of them forever.</p><p>It was just the two of them now. Damen was gone, and that was a heartache that Laurent would deal with later. He wasn’t sure it would be felt much, not when it was to be dulled out by the all-consuming pain of what he’d done to Nikandros.  </p><p>Nikandros placed his hands on Laurent’s shoulders, almost like he was trying to keep him steady. It was unhurried, gentle. And then, just as gently, he pushed him away.</p><p>Laurent let it happen, knowing that he had no other choice. He gave him the few steps of space that he needed, and took despairing pleasure in the fact that Nikandros didn’t release him. His hands remained on either of Laurent’s biceps; stretched forward as he kept him at arms length. </p><p>“Why him?” Nikandros said. </p><p>He didn’t wait for any indication of an answer. His fingers tightened, pulling at the fabric of Laurent’s shirtsleeves as he said, “I mean it. Tell me, please. Of  -“ He looked at the ground. “<em>All the people</em> –“ </p><p>“It wasn’t like that,” Laurent said, speaking over any other horrible thing he might imply. “I wasn’t – you have to understand. If there’s one thing you hear, let it be that I wasn’t just carelessly trying to hurt you, not with -”</p><p>“<em>You think this doesn’t hurt me</em>?”</p><p>It was too loud for the close proximity they were in, and the least of what made Laurent flinch.</p><p>“I know it does,” he said. If all he could give Nikandros now was his honesty, then that was what he would do. He pulled a breath in, straightened his shoulders. “I know I broke your heart.”</p><p>“No.” Nikandros let him go. “You both did.” </p><p>He moved around Laurent, leaving him with a view of the hallway, the rest of the apartment in sight. The folded throw blankets, the couch they’d spread out on the previous night and kissed for what felt like hours. It looked clean and unlived in now, the furniture undisturbed. Laurent had been too busy pacing all morning to utilize anything.</p><p>Nikandros was seated on the edge of the bed when he turned. His weight was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His head was in his hands. </p><p>The visual of it marred Laurent in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. The detachedness of it was wrong. They’d fucked on that bed. Made love on it. They’d shared secrets, and laughter, and made life plans that might never come to fruition. </p><p>A cloud moved against the sun as Laurent’s throat clicked. “Can I sit?”</p><p>Nikandros laughed, short and light. He rubbed at his forehead with a shake, waved the same hand carelessly before setting his face on his palm. </p><p>Laurent looked at his hands as they hung between his legs, turning them over. Hands that had touched two men, brought them both pleasure and then held them close afterward. Laurent always had some plan; he always knew just what to say. He stared at his fingers now, and knew that no clever words or sweet apology would change a single thing.</p><p>Laurent heard the moment Nikandros chose to speak. It was in his breathing, slowly increased. “How long has this been going on?”</p><p>He looked at the ground as he spoke. Laurent couldn’t do the same; he couldn’t look away from him. Even now, when every one of his features was etched in sadness. “A few months.”</p><p>He closed his eyes again. Laurent watched as a muscle worked in his jaw, setting. </p><p>When he spoke next, it was with his mouth pressed to his fist. He said, differently, “How long.”</p><p>Laurent’s head swam. He wished he didn’t know Nikandros so well, that he didn’t understand what was really being asked of him. He thought the disconnect of ignorance would be easier than having to face this.</p><p>The edge of his nail prickled his palm. “For years,” Laurent said.  His voice was small, pitiably so. It scraped his throat as it left him, the admission leaving him raw. “I wanted it for years.” </p><p>Laurent knew, if he wasn’t denied Nikandros’ face, that a part of him would fundamentally change. The crumble of his shoulders tore something in Laurent, the way his body folded in on itself. Laurent could feel his own heart beating through the cracks of his chest.</p><p>The truth was finally out in the open, so real and horrible that it was like it could be touched. Laurent had been escaping it for so long, hiding it in the depths of his mind like that would make its imminence disappear. And now that it was between them, he didn’t know how to breathe around it.</p><p>The silence was terrible, and Laurent could do nothing to fill it. He couldn’t even begin to guess what was going through Nikandros’ mind. To put himself in his shoes was impossible. The idea of Nikandros with someone else – of <em>wanting</em> someone else - was unbearable; the ache that came with the thought alone was insurmountable. It made him ill.</p><p>But Laurent needed <em>something.</em> He didn’t know what, he didn’t care. He just couldn’t sit here in this stillness as he felt Nikandros slip farther away. </p><p>He set his hand in the spot between them. He didn’t touch him. “Will you speak to me?”</p><p>“Do you love him?” Nikandros asked. </p><p>He asked it with his head still hung, only turned to face Laurent. </p><p><em>Honesty,</em> he’d promised himself. He knew only one answer. “Not like I love you.” </p><p>He could feel the blanket strain underneath them, tugging in a clench. The question echoed in Laurent’s mind, the tone with which it was said. It was an arrow that shot straight down his throat, slicing through his body at it went.</p><p>Nikandros’ jaw hardened. “That’s not what I asked.”</p><p>Laurent looked away, shaking his head. He wouldn’t answer that. He couldn’t. The first time Laurent had told Nikandros he loved him, his eyes lit up in a way Laurent had never seen on anyone before. He would never let anyone else have that.</p><p>“It’s not what you asked,” he said, staring into the room. He sounded hollow. “But it’s what matters. You’re the only right thing about me.”</p><p>“I never believed that,” Nikandros said, firmly. “Not once. I may have loved you enough for the both of us, but it was because you deserved it, not because you needed it.”</p><p>“I know,” Laurent whispered. </p><p>“And still,” Nikandros leaned back. “It wasn’t enough.”</p><p>It was awful, hearing it said like that. It was just as bad seeing the way he said it, the way he truly believed it. </p><p>“You’re enough,” Lauren insisted, a contradiction and a truth. He didn’t know how to make sense of this, how to explain without trying to justify. “You’ve always been enough. Damen wasn’t – some gap I was trying to fill –“</p><p>Nikandros turned away. “He was just someone else you wanted.”</p><p>What reason was there to explain, when that was really what it boiled down to? “Yes.”</p><p>“Damen,” Nikandros said, and then in an entirely different voice, “<em>Damen</em>.”</p><p>He was looking around the room, white faced, and in a moment of horror Laurent could guess where his mind was going. “Nikandros –“</p><p>“Don’t.” Nikandros had grabbed the hand that Laurent had reached out. There was nothing forceful about it, just hard enough that he made his meaning clear. Laurent’s fingers hung between them, grasping at the air.</p><p>“Here?” Nikandros asked, with large eyes that made him look like he’d been hit. “In our room? In our bed?”</p><p>“<em>No,</em>” Laurent tried to withdraw, but he didn’t fight hard when Nikandros gripped at his wrist. “I would never –“</p><p>“Never what?” He let go; let it fall to Laurent’s lap. “Fuck my best friend? Fall in love with him?”</p><p>It hurt. It was the truth, the undeniable truth, and it only made it hurt more.  </p><p>Something gnawed in him; buzzing in his ears and growing louder the longer they spoke. Things he had no right to think of, and had the potential to be his undoing There were so many questions, so many things Laurent wanted to ask and didn’t want to know. It was impossible to know where to begin. <em>Can you still love me? Can we ever move on? </em></p><p>
  <em>Can we, without Damen?</em>
</p><p>But Nikandros beat him to it. He straightened his shoulders and waited until Laurent managed to look him in the eye. It took more than he thought it would. “Were you ever going to tell me?”</p><p>And the sad truth was that Laurent didn’t know. Nikandros finding out like this was like the harsh slap of reality, the universe ensuring that he didn’t come out of this with any nobility. He told Damen they had to stop, but how would that conversation had ended if they’d had the time to let it play out? He didn’t know how much longer he could betray Nikandros, but he also hadn’t thought he could do it to begin with. Laurent had all the right intensions and all the wrong actions, no matter how strongly he believed in those things. He wanted to say yes, and he couldn’t trust himself to.</p><p>So he asked instead, “Would it have mattered?”</p><p>A car drove off outside their window, faster than was the norm in their neighborhood. Laurent listened, counting his breathes, the sound growing distant and far.</p><p>“You mean,” Nikandros said, slow. Understanding. He always knew, even when Laurent didn’t. It used to be comforting. “Would that have changed what this means for us, now?”</p><p>Somehow, in the last bit of self-delusion that Laurent possessed, he had managed to convince himself that this might not be their end. With Nikandros’ capacity to forgive, with how much Laurent believed this life was created for them to find each other, it simply couldn’t be that the two of them just – wouldn’t. </p><p>Hearing that now, even in so many words, was like a bubble of phantasm bursting in his lungs. It reshaped his insides and the way he saw the world. Nikandros was speaking, and yet all Laurent could understand was that he’d lost everything at once. </p><p>When Nikandros stood from the bed, it was like he took the oxygen with him. Laurent longed for the sweet luxury of panic to overtake him, to give him the bliss of numbness, but all he had was the sharp clarity of the new world he’d shaped for himself. </p><p><em>He didn’t say</em> – One part of his mind yelled, shaking the bars he was trapped behind. <em>You might still – one day</em> – </p><p><em>Let him go,</em> another said. Louder, sharper, whispered from somewhere deep inside him that he’d not yet reached, a place he didn’t know intimately.  Selflessness, maybe. <em>Let him heal.</em></p><p>“Nikandros,” Laurent said, because he couldn’t let him go. Not ever, but certainly not without him knowing. He had to know. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Laurent said, like he was speaking underwater. The seconds ticked by and he sunk deeper, drowning. “I’ll be sorry every day.”</p><p>Nikandros stared back at him, his brown eyes blurred with pain and something that Laurent never thought he would see again. He let it fill him, keep him up for these lingering moments, the last thread between them would soon be severed. </p><p>The first time Nikandros had told Laurent he loved him, it had felt like coming alive. That feeling had carried him all those years, making him feel like he’d done something right. Somehow, he’d earned the love of this lively, honest man. One who saw good in Laurent, believed in Laurent. Laurent watched him touch the door; head bowed, and wondered if he regretted those years now, or if he only wished they could have had more.</p><p>He pulled the door open. He looked at Laurent as he did, and all Laurent thought was that this couldn’t be how their story ended.</p><p>“So will I,” Nikandros said.</p><p>And then he left.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="http://laurent-ofvere.tumblr.com"> tumblr</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/damensthighs"> twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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